


Grey Meadow

by orphan_account



Series: District 9 AU [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Blood, Blood and Torture, Cybercrimes, District 9 - Freeform, District 9 AU, Dystopia, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Gay Panic, HYUNSUNG, HYUNSUNG IS THE ONLY SHIP FITE ME, Han Jisung | Han is Oblivious, Hwang Hyunjin is a Sweetheart, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internalised Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overthrowing the government, Rebel Chan, Rebel boy hyunjin, Sorry Not Sorry, Torture, Violence, coder minho, jisung is babie, no wait the ending is happy, okay the happy ending is gonna have to wait, sorry jisung, strgay kids, trapped jisung, warden woojin, y'all don't ship hyunsung enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-10-17 01:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20612606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You shouldn’t be so attached to me,” Hyunjin had said. Oh, Jisung knew.A District 9 AU dystopia, feat. Stray Kids accidentally overthrowing the government and gay Hyunsung.Really, the fic isn't as bad as the summary.





	1. Woods

Fences. Jisung was all too familiar with them; they surrounded him everywhere he went. And they came with consequences. Electric, wooden, concrete or even plain old barbed wire - Jisung had scars from each of them from the days when he didn't know better.

Here, outside the facility, the grass was dead and grey, just like the sky above and knotted wire that encircled it. Morbid, but still better than the sterile white of the facility. The buzz of electricity through the fence almost made up for the lack of bees and flowers. Jisung liked it.

Lately, though, sneaking out onto the grounds had become a more frequent habit than it should have been. Jisung knew he could get caught, and that the punishment that would follow would be far more than he had endured so far. Hyunjin, though was so very worth the risk.

Hyunjin. Jisung sighed, running a hand through his deep red hair as he waited for the older boy. The dye had been a gift from the raven-haired boy, a splash of colour to offset Jisung's all-white uniform. Hyunjin said it suited him well, but Jisung couldn't tell.

His reflection in the filthy steel plates at the mess was devoid of colour, and the tinted windows of the facility reflected nothing.

But Hyunjin would know. The fact that Hyunjin thought it looked good on him was enough for Jisung.

"Miss me?" A tall figure dressed in black scrambled to sit next to Jisung on the grass.

"Hyunjin!" Jisung felt his lips smile for the first time in what felt like ages. "Have you brought me anything special today?" 

"You'll see," he replied cryptically. "Come on. Quick, we've got to get you back by the curfew." He snatched Jisung's hand into his own, dragging him across the greyed lawn.

Jisung stumbled after him breathlessly. It had become a ritual now. Every week, Hyunjin would sneak into the facility campus and show Jisung something new from outside his sterilised environment, something from the world outside. Hyunjin's world.

Normally, Hyunjin would spread a tarp over the electric fence and help Jisung jump over. He would probably sneak Jisung into the city to show him the lights and the buildings. Perhaps lend him his sweater to hide his uniform as they robbed a grocery store or spray painted obscene messages onto the compound walls of government buildings.

But today, Hyunjin led him into the woods that surrounded the facility.

"I want to show you something special tonight," Hyunjin had said. And Jisung believed him, because everything about Hyunjin was special.

Jisung held on to Hyunjin's sleeve as they trudged deeper into the forest, pine needles crunching beneath their feet. Jisung didn't like going into the forest; he had never been this deep into it before. It wasn't because it was forbidden - rules rarely bothered him - it was because he was scared.

Outside, the sky was grey, but inside the forest, it was black. Light was selective of what it touched over here, and Jisung didn't like that.

"Jinnie, I'm scared," he mumbled into the taller boy's shoulder.

"Mmm, don't be; you'll like what you see," Hyunjin hummed, drawing Jisung closer as he led them into a clearing between the trees.

Jisung gasped.

A stream gurgled softly between the thicket, dead leaves and pinecones floating in the swift current. Jisung had never seen water so clear before, hell, the closest he had come to seeing a stream was the slow flowing gutter of filth that flowed out of the dorm lavatories. Far from pleasant.

That, however, was not what had his attention.

Above the water skimmed a thousand pinpricks of golden light, as though the sun had splintered into pieces and descended into the forest.

"Wow," Jisung whispered, fingers tightening around Hyunjin's arm."What are they?" 

"Fireflies," Hyunjin smiled. "I figured you've probably never seen them before." 

Hyunjin loved moments like these - when Jisung clutched his arm as he stared at everything new Hyunjin showed him with round eyes and parted lips. He loved the thought that he was responsible for Jisung's discoveries, that he was helping Jisung rebel in small ways by feeding his curiosity.

"Fireflies," Jisung repeated breathlessly. "They're beautiful." 

_____

Jisung hated mornings. It wasn't waking up that was hard, it was the routine that wore him out.

Head bowed, eyes low. Mouth shut unless it's for brushing or shovelling spoonfuls of the muck that passed for breakfast. Jisung didn't know it was muck, though, never having tasted anything else in his life, until Hyunjin brought him those deep fried heaven rings. Doughnuts, is that what he had said they were called?

It didn't matter right now; the thought of doughnuts did not make the grease on his plate any easier to eat. Jisung sighed.

Next to him, Chan was scooping the remaining breakfast goo off his plate and into his mouth wordlessly.

Chan. Their unofficial dorm leader. Jisung really didn't know how he did it - how he could put up with all the crap the facility threw at him. But then again, Chan was perfect in a way he would never be.

Unlike Chan, Jisung had been in the facility ever since he could remember - probably ever since he was born, if the date mentioned on his tattoo was anything to go by. He glanced at his forearm where a barcode marred his skin. Beneath it was a date from some eighteen years ago. Beneath that, in tiny font was his error code - 163.

"Error processing instructions," Chan had said.

Well, that explained a lot.

Jisung dumped the rest of his breakfast back into the server's trough to follow Chan.

Chan was on duty at the tablet archives today. To Jisung, the tablet archives meant answers.

"Channie hyung," Jisung whispered as he pattered after Chan towards the archives.

"Jisung?" Chan stilled, letting the shorter boy catch up to him. "Don't you have to be in the labs today?" 

Jisung shrugged. He despised the labs and the goons in white coats. "I don't want them sticking lightning rods up my nose again." He shuddered.

Chan smiled. "Shock therapy isn't the worst you can get here, you know." 

Chan would know. He had burns that trailed across his neck and forearms from wack 'treatments' Jisung didn't want to know about.

"They like you," Chan said, "that's why they haven't tried curing you with acid or burns yet." 

"Well, they have no reason to like me," Jisung said firmly, though his eyes scanned their surroundings for cameras.

Chan chuckled this time. He lowered his voice further.

"I'm not supposed to know this, but I heard they're going to breed you next year. That's why they don't want you to be too... damaged, y' know." 

Jisung's mouth dropped open in comical horror. "No," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

He had heard about breedings from the older boys at the dorm. The dark room with the unidentifiable female, and the ten minutes of horror that followed. The thought made him want to curl into a ball.

"Hey, cheer up," Chan patted his back. "It's still more action than you've gotten in your virgin life." 

Jisung felt his cheeks burn. "I'd rather face acid that do something like that," he mumbled.

Chan put his forearm to the scanner and waited for the lights to blink green. "They think you're handsome - don't wanna waste genes like yours." 

"Besides," Chan continued as they walked through the sliding grills that guarded the archives, "at times, the treatments get so bad, you can't even get it up after a while. Enjoy it while you can." 

"Channie, stop!" Jisung was sure his face was redder than the fire extinguishers that hung from the walls.

"I'm serious." Chan's face was solemn. He grabbed a small duster and handed it to Jisung.

"In case anyone comes asking, you're helping me finish the dusting, okay?" 

Jisung giggled. "Okay."

Chan tapped the panel next to the shelves of black tablets that filled the room. It lit up with an unnatural blue light, beeping softly as he fiddled with the keypad.

"So, what was it you wanted to know about today?" Chan asked as he continued to type.

"Nothing, really." Jisung picked at the duster. Normally, there were no secrets he kept from Chan, and the older would oblige with a tablet on whatever topic had captured Jisung's curiosity.

Today was different, because telling Chan about fireflies would mean telling him about Hyunjin.

Though Jisung trusted Chan with everything, Hyunjin was a secret he wanted to keep to himself. 

Chan leaned against the panel. "Stop lying." 

Jisung swallowed. "Creatures in the woods. I saw something I wanna know more about." 

Chan raised a surprised eyebrow.

"The woods? I didn't think you'd be brave enough to go there alone." He eyed Jisung doubtfully. "You really aren't supposed to go in there, Jisung," Chan clicked his tongue.

"Well, you aren't supposed to be reading any of the tablets either, hyung," Jisung stuck out his tongue at Chan. "Yet you do, and you very irresponsibly let your charges read them as well." 

Chan sighed, inserting a tablet into the slot beneath the panel.

'Animals of the Coniferous Forests,' the title read.

"All yours." Chan said as he moved to a shelf to arrange the tablets as he had been instructed.

Jisung scrolled furiously through the pages. Asian black bear, bison, chipmunk, deer mouse, all seemed interesting. He skimmed through each quickly. None of them were what he wanted, though. 

"Channie hyung," he called. "It isn't here." 

"What isn't here?" Chan emerged from between two shelves.

"Firef -" He caught himself. "The thing I saw." Jisung gulped, hoping his face hadn't given him away.

Chan smirked; of course it had.

"So," Chan sat heavily on a crate. "Your roadside Romeo has been taking you to watch fireflies in the woods, has he?" 

"What do you mean?" Jisung tried to play dumb even as his cheeks flared.

"The pretty boy who picks you up from the grounds every time you sneak out - I notice these things, y'know."

"He's not my Romeo," Jisung mumbled, eyes on the floor.

A month ago, Chan had let him read Romeo and Juliet when they were at the archives. Jisung didn't particularly like it, and the archaic language made his head swim, but apparently the playwright had been a big thing during the older days.

Jisung stood silently. Of course Chan knew. There were no secrets with him. Jisung trusted him.

"Fireflies, that's really sweet of him," Chan murmured to himself as he picked another tablet from a shelf.

"Here you go," Chan stopped at a page titled 'Photo Luminescence'.

"Thank you." Jisung dragged his eyes across the fancy scientific terms on the page.

"Channie hyung?"

"Mmm?"

"Outside, in the real world, is reading forbidden there too?" 

Chan inhaled, trying to recollect. The shock therapy he had been receiving at the facility had impaired his ability to recall events from his time in normal society.

"I don't remember reading much apart from textbooks and pledges. Based on a law text I've found here, reading is pretty much illegal. Unless you are a scientist, then you can access the encyclopaedias. Literature, though, especially from the old days, is forbidden."

Jisung sucked in a breath. How pathetic it was, that knowledge was outlawed.

"Y'know, they say that if we're good and respond well to the treatment, they'll send us back to integrate with society, but out there is as bad as in here. When they talk about a normal society, they really mean a pliant society. They expect obedience." 

"So, running away isn't going to solve anything?" Jisung's eyes widened.

Chan shook his head. Moments like these, when Chan opened up, were rare.

"What we really need is a revolution." His jaw was set in a way Jisung hadn't seen before.

Jisung glanced at his forearm. Error code 241. He made a mental note to ask Hyunjin what that stood for.

"Next week, Jisung, we'll read Karl Marx." Chan sighed and resumed stacking the tablets into the shelves.

_____

"He knows," Jisung blurted. "Chan knows, Hyunjin. He's seen you." 

Hyunjin swallowed the last of the chips he had brought for Jisung.

"But you trust him, don't you?"

Jisung nodded. "With my life."

"Then that shouldn't be much of a problem."

Hyunjin was sitting across him on the concrete floor of the warehouse, an electric lamp colouring the air between them an eerie red.

Today's gift was a pocket handbook for correction facility wardens. Jisung leafed through it to find passwords, code words, and maps. Highly useful.

"Where did you get this from? They probably cost a fortune on the black market."

Hyunjin stretched his arms, letting his shirt ride up to reveal a slice of unmarred skin.

"Nicked it from an office."

"It'd better not be a fake," Jisung muttered before pocketing it.

Hyunjin never brought him fakes, though. Jisung really didn't know how he did it.

"Chan says they're going to breed me when I turn eighteen." Jisung spoke quietly.

"What!?" Hyunjin spat.

"You heard me," Jisung sighed.

"That's disgusting!"

Jisung shrugged. "I know."

The silence between them grew thick before Hyunjin broke it.

"I've been talking to people." He fiddled with the silver chain around his neck. Had he stolen that too? Probably.

"They're part of a rebel group that smuggles people out of correction facilities."

Jisung looked up. A rebel group. The implications of that sentence were heavy enough to fill his head with hopeful thoughts. Hopeful thoughts hurt, because hope was a useless thing to feel in a situation like his own.

"You mean...You'll try getting me out of here?" Jisung chose his words cautiously.

Hyunjin nodded silently. "Try to stay out of trouble 'til then." 

Jisung shivered. He had had his share of punishments before. The scars along his back spoke enough of them. Yet, he never seemed to learn, because here he was, with Hyunjin once again, risking a flogging.

Error code 163 indeed - error processing instructions.

"You should go. It's getting late."

Jisung nodded and stood up, brushing crumbs off his trousers.

"Hyunjin, if you're serious about whatever this plan is, I want Chan to come along, too." 

"I'll try," Hyunjin replied a little too eagerly.

Jisung offered him a wry smile before turning to leave.

On the inside, the confidence with which Hyunjin promised to help him and Chan out was comforting. Not because it gave him hope, but because Hyunjin wouldn't have replied with such speed if he wasn't saying it just to comfort Jisung. It was well, because now both of them could lie to each other about hope while not having enough of it themselves to feel disappointed when it shatters.

_____

Back at the dorm, Jisung strained his eyes beneath his blanket. The watch Hyunjin had given him had a night light, barely enough to make out letters on the cheap synthetic paper of the book. It hurt his eyes a little.

Across the room, he could hear his roommate snoring lightly.

Chan was probably still awake under the excuse of extra chores or whatever lies he sold to the warden. After today's conversation, though, Jisung wondered what really kept Chan busy at night.

Was he serious about the revolution, or had that just been a string of frustrated thoughts?

Jisung indulged himself, imagining the possibility of Chan secretly being part of a rebel force before dismissing it quickly. It was silly, and Chan was far too sensible for something like that.

Unless...

Jisung flipped through the pages, reaching a list of error codes. Sure enough, 163 stood for error processing instructions.

241, the number he had seen tattooed in small font on Chan's forearm, was not far below.

Jisung gasped.

Error code 241 : Security threat.

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to J for betaing this chapter.  
Tell me what you think, tell me what you want to see, tell me anything, really, in the comments.
> 
> -PoA


	2. God

The smell of iodoform invaded the air as the warden swiped cotton against skin.

"You missed your session yesterday." Woojin's voice was cool, not betraying a shred of emotion. 

Jisung merely nodded. With Woojin, he had learnt that talking out of turn could be costly. The warden was perfectly polite on the surface, but Jisung knew from experience that an ugly temper simmered beneath the emotionless facade. 

"Do you care to explain?"

"I was sick." His standard excuse rose easily to his lips. 

Woojin clicked his tongue in mock sympathy as he snapped open a glass ampoule drew its contents into a hypodermic syringe. "What a pity." 

They had been through this drill several times; Jisung would skip his therapy sessions and lie to the medic in charge, who would complain to Woojin. Later, the warden would attempt to grind obedience into the boy during one of his 'discipline lessons'. 

"Didn't it occur to you that you should report to the hospital wing instead of playing truant?" A calloused thumb brushed over Jisung's tattoo. "Why don't you just do a you're told?" 

The needle slid into Jisung's skin without resistance. Within a few minutes, his fingertips would start tingling and his jaw would slacken, rendering him unable to speak clearly. 

"The medics have decided they're fed up with your little disappearing acts. All your lab and therapy sessions will be replaced by discipline lessons with me." 

Jisung's eyes widened in fear. He nodded dumbly. Woojin was a ruthless disciplinarian. Jisung still remembered the time he couldn't walk for three days because of the caning he'd received on his calves. The scars on Chan's arms, too were a souvenir from Woojin. 

"You may not believe it right now, Jisung, but this is for your own good." Metal handcuffs fastened the boy's wrists to the arms of his chair. 

Jisung struggled half - heartedly against the restraints before Woojin returned with his chosen instrument of punishment. Jisung swallowed. 

Between Woojin's fingers was a salt - encrusted knife. 

"Tell me, what is your primary duty as a citizen?" Woojin placed the flat edge of the knife against Jisung's arm. 

"To abide by the word of God and be of service to my society." Jisung slurred in a drugged haze. He hated those words, despite having recited them every morning with the rest of the inmates of the facility. 

"Very good." The knife dipped slightly into his skin, leaving a fine red line in its wake. It was just enough to tingle uncomfortably - a warning to signify the pain awaited. 

Woojin brought up a hand to cup Jising's chin. "We can't be of much help to our fellow citizens unless we know how to do as we're told, now, can we?" 

"No, sir," Jisung whispered. 

"Then why don't you ever listen, huh?" Woojin backhanded him across the face and Jisung's head rang with the impact. "How can we send you to live with everyone else if you can't follow instructions like everyone else?" 

Jisung was shaking now, struggling against the handcuffs. He could feel a line of blood drip from his nose and collect at his lips as he sat unable to wipe it away.

"Each instruction you receive is created so you can be part of the society God envisioned for us. But you think you're too good for that, don't you? You still want to use your faulty brain to warp and twist every single thing instead of following what's been said, don't you?" 

Jisung shook his head frantically as the knife began to draw blood from the back of his hand. 

"You're a glitch," Woojin spat, "at least we recognised it and tried to help you with it. Yet, you're so ungrateful, you don't even make an effort to listen." He struck the boy's face once again. 

Tears flowed down Jisung's face, mingling with the blood and running down his chin before dropping onto his collar. The white fabric bloomed red under the steady drip of blood and tears. 

"Trust me, we're only trying to help you," Woojin gritted. 

He dug the knife into Jisung's bicep, and the boy let out a deranged scream as the salt poisoned the gash while hot blood gushed from it. 

_____

  


By the drug - induced fog had lifted from Jisung's brain, it was already dark outside. The floodlights that lit the grounds were bright pinpricks of white through the tinted windows of the facility. Hyunjin was probably still waiting for Jisung, crouched behind the compound wall where the cameras couldn’t see him. 

Jisung sighed. Part of him wanted to creep out onto the grey lawn and crouch beside Hyunjin, and tell him about his ‘lesson’ with Woojiin. The other, more sensible part of Jisung reminded him that he could barely stand up without ripping open the pathetically bandaged wounds that covered his arms and legs.

The sensible voice won, and Jisung returned his attention to the textbook he was supposed to be reciting from.

“The word of God is the word of Truth, Liberty and all that rules us. It is God’s law that we follow, and it is God that mercifully provides us with both direction and liberty so that we may not stray from the path paved for us in pursuit of our freedoms.”

It made no sense to Jisung, but he continued to recite. “It is foolish and vain to apply our thought to the ways of the world, for that has already been decided for us. Good and bad do not change definition from situation to situation, and so our rights and wrongs have been laid down for us in stone by God. The only thing left for us to do is to strive to be worthy of the paradise God has created for us.” 

Jisung had never fully understood the meaning of paradise, but he was sure it was a place that was far, far away from the facility. 

He recited further, feeling sicker with each word that passed his lips. “Those that are unworthy of this utopia need not fear, for God is merciful and loves all. They shall receive the help that they are entitled to by the law, and the rest of society shall care for them and help them return to their true nature.”

It was despicable, the way he was expected to swallow the lies they tried to feed him. Sure enough, he wouldn’t have known they were lies if not for Chan’s subtle hints and Hyunjin’s exaggerated rants, but that did not deduct from the ugliness of the situation. 

If this God was really as good as the books claimed, Jisung was sure he or she wouldn’t have called the facility a manifestation of society’s ‘care and help’. He snapped the textbook shut. On the back in small letters were printed the words ‘Service and Loyalty’, apparently the values he was supposed to live by. 

Beneath the flimsy gauze dressing, his cuts still stung from the salt. Thankfully, Woojin had soaked the bandage in iodoform; Jisung could only imagine the infections he could be developing if he hadn’t. For all his flaws, the warden was meticulous with his treatment of injuries, even if he was the one inflicting them.

  


In his silence, he could hear someone recite a different verse through the thin walls of the dorm. Jisung only hoped that whoever it was would at least get to escape this hell hole even if they didn’t realise that the system was built on a graveyard of lies.

_____

  


The bricks landed on the lawn with a dull thud as Chan emptied the wheelbarrow, The inmates pottered about, shovelling bricks into carts beneath the white sun, sweat turning their white uniforms transparent. 

"Sit down," Jisung patted the grass beside where he sat with his back to the compound wall of the facility. His still - healing wounds had popped open under the strain, making his trouser legs run red. 

"Gladly." Chan plonked himself next to the younger boy, still panting. 

Today was a labour day. That meant the inmates were required to weed out the herb garden, or fix the plumbing, or like today, assist in building a higher compound wall. 

Yet, Jisung liked labour days better than others because the physical strain left him with little energy to brood over other irritants. A labour day also meant he might get to go to the grounds, and the ground_ s _meant fewer cameras were watching. Much, much better than 'discipline lessons' with a knife wielding Woojin or spending hours reciting nonsense from his tattered textbook. 

"Your pretty boy was rather upset you couldn't meet him over the past week," Chan said as he gulped chlorinated water from a flimsy plastic bottle. 

Jisung's eyes widened. How was it that Chan always got to know everything? "Why do you know that?" 

Chan laughed. "Hyunjin was waiting for you behind the wall. He misses you, y'know." 

That still didn't explain what Chan was doing snooping about the grounds at night, but Jisung didn't push it. There were many things about Chan that he didn't know, and Chan could be rather evasive about them. How he'd gotten his error code was just one of the items on that list. 

"Did you tell him I was injured?" Jisung didn't want Hyunjin to think he had been ignoring him, or that he had forgotten about their 'appointments'. 

Chan nodded. "He was really sweet about it and hopes you aren't hurting too much." He pressed a metallic object onto Jisung's palm. "He wanted me to give you this."

Jisung didn't dare look at it, instead he slipped it into his pocket wordlessly. He could examine it later when fewer people were watching, perhaps in the lavatory or after the lights went out in the dorm. 

A warden called out Chan's name, and he was up with a sigh. "He says he'll be at the western fence today, near the barbed wire - if you're feeling up to it."

Jisung nodded. "I'll be there."

"Don't get too attached to him," Chan turned back on Jisung and made his way back to the upturned wheelbarrow. 

_____

  


Beneath the pale moon, the colourless landscape of the facility seemed to acquire a silvery beauty of its own. There were no stars in the inky sky, but from here, Jisung could see the lights of the city twinkling in the distance. The dead grass possessed an otherworldly grace, and even the stark white concrete of the facility building glowed gently in the moonlight's embrace. 

They were sitting on the roof of the facility building, Hyunjin sprawled beside Jisung. "It's my turn to take you someplace special," Jisung had insisted, and so they had crawled through a blind spot between the floodlights and scaled the pipes at the back of the building. His cuts had flared up with the exertion, but that was easy to ignore, for now. 

It wasn't much, but Jisung loved it even more than the grounds. While the grounds had floodlights and cameras, the roof was above it all, and was not under surveillance. That, however, was because the overweight technicians who had set up the circuitry never imagined anyone could get up here. 

"I'm glad you were able to make it today, though. The way Chan described it, it sounded as though Woojin mauled you." He shuddered. 

"He almost did." Jisung's laugh was devoid of humour. 

"Mmm… Stay safe." Hyunjin reached out to pat the smaller boy. "Did Chan give it to you?" Hyunjin asked. 

Jisung nodded. "I didn't have the time to take a look at it, though." He produced the metallic object from his pocket. In the moonlight, he could see that it was a little pill box. 

"I thought it would help with the pain, but clearly, you don't need it anymore." Hyunjin took the box from Jisung's hands and opened it to reveal a thick paste. "It's a numbing salve," he explained, handing the box back to the younger boy. 

"That was awfully nice of you, sending it with Chan like that."

Hyunjin laughed. "Yeah, he caught me crouching by the compound wall. I don't know what he was doing there, but you had said you trusted him, so I figured he was pretty okay."

"His error code is 241." Jisung ran an absent hand through his hair. 

"What's that? Interpreter failure? Runtime error?" 

"Security threat." Jisung said quietly. 

Hyunjin let out a low whistle. "We had one of those at the child centre. She ran away before they could send her to a correction facility, though."

"Where do you think Chan could have come from? He says he came from the city, but that's not very specific." Jisung turned to Hyunjin. "Do you think he might have been in an orphanage like you?" 

Hyunjin shrugged. "I don't know." 

Hyunjin had been born out of a breeding, which is why he had been sent to a government child centre to be cared for. 

"We've known each other for so long, yet there's so much I don't know about him," Jisung sighed, resting his head on the taller boy's shoulder. "I guess there are some things that only God can know." 

He felt Hyunjin's frame quiver with a silent chuckle. "You don't really believe God exists, do you?" Hyunjin's tone was incredulous. 

"Of course, I do," Jisung blinked, taken aback. The answer seemed rather obvious to him. 

"How can you be so sure if you've never seen God?" The taller boy still has with a playful lilt in his voice. 

Jisung thought for a second. "Well, the books day so," he started carefully. 

Hyunjin clicked his tongue contemptuously. "We both know how much of those books is based on fact."

"I know, but isn't it God who recognises the unworthy at birth and orders them sent to correction facilities? Isn't it the same God who speaks to you at your telling ceremony and picks your career for you? Why, wasn't God there at your telling, Hyunjin?" Jisung paused." I may not like God, whoever it may be, but I know they exist." It was an honest argument, for whenever the wardens chose to justify their cruelty, they always seemed to cite God. 

Hyunjin snorted." The voice at my telling sounded more like a computer than a person while it listed the reasons why I would make a first class ticket collector."

"Why, what were you hoping to get?" Jisung slipped an arm around Hyunjin's waist. 

"I've always wanted to be a scientist," Hyunjin murmured, staring down at his back hands. "I tried contesting the decision, but they told me God knows what's best for me."

A soft breeze ruffled the silence between them. 

"You do know that only people with certain privileges get to be scientists, don't you?" It was an unfortunate truth that the only people who got to explore the power of science in their society were those who had treated it previously by means of money or politics.

Hyunjin nodded." Isn't the existence of God rather unfairly useful to people in power?" 

Confusion flitted across the younger boy's face. "People in power?" 

"Politicians, rich people, and the like," Hyunjin explained. His brown eyes gleamed black in the bleached moonlight. "Doesn't it all seem like an elaborate farce to help the government and the rich and citizens where it's convenient for them? Think about it, couldn't God be a puppet to deliver their ideologies instead of the other way round?" 

"I don't know," Jisung blinked. "I like to think there's someone responsible for all the shit in my life and God is a very convenient scapegoat."

"Maybe you're blaming the wrong thing. I mean, If God really loves everyone the same, do you think you would have to put up with even half of what you do right now?" 

"Maybe there is a God, just not as nice as the books say. Or, perhaps, the books could be right." Jisung shrugged his small shoulders. 

Hyunjin stared at him in disbelief. "C'mon, Jisung, surely you of all people couldn't think the books are right."

"It's just a thought."

The black haired boy let his shoulders slump. "I don't know about you, but they don't get to control what I think."

"Goodness, listen to yourself a bit," Jisung laughed. "With all the things you're saying, I'm surprised they haven't stamped a barcode on you and slipped you into white uniform already."

_____

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I know this chapter was slower than the first one, but I wanted to explore the structure of the society a bit. The next chapter is on its way and will be better, I promise.
> 
> Once again, J, thanks for putting up a with my writing. 
> 
> What do you think? What do you want to see more of?
> 
> Tell me in the comments :)
> 
> \- PoA


	3. Blood

Jisung slid through a window and tiptoed across the corridors as quietly as possible, trying not to wake anyone up. Getting back to the dorms was always the trickiest part of sneaking out onto the roof. 

He glanced at the watch Hyunjin had given him. Quarter to two - that gave him a little over two hours before the morning bell would ring and the wardens would line them up for their roll call. He crept down the spiral staircase that descended into the dormitory, sticking to the wall so the cameras wouldn't see him. 

A dull thud crumpled the unearthly silence and Jisung's heart quickened. He strained his ears for footsteps, but he couldn't hear much apart from the pounding of his pulse in his ears. The staircase seemed deserted enough as he scanned his surroundings. 

He gingerly began moving again - one step, and then another. He must have been halfway down when he bumped into someone scurrying up the stairs, probably a staff member on patrol. 

Jisung opened his mouth in what would have been an instinctive scream if the figure hadn't clapped a strong hand over it. His breath froze in his chest, and he stumbled down the stairs dumbly as the man dragged him along. 

He could feel his hands shaking even as his fear - numbed brain provided him with increasingly unsavoury projections of what might be next to him. An image of his body convulsing in an electric chair, his skin corroding as an acid - filled burette slowly dripped its contents onto his back, his bloated corpse floating in the swift current of the stream where Hyunjin had shown him the fireflies… 

What punishment would the wardens award him with this time, when there was no denying of his wrongdoing? 

Instead of the wardens' quarters as expected, the man had brought him to the dorm, and was now pushing Jisung back onto his own cot. Jisung stared in surprise, eyes widening as the man's face grew recognisable in the dim blue glow of night light in the corner. 

"Channie hyung?" Jisung whispered. "Oh, I'm so glad it's just you, I was so afraid that -" 

Chan cut Jisung off once more by setting his palm firmly against the younger's mouth. 

"Shh. If anyone asks, you don't know where I went, okay?" 

Jisung swallowed, not knowing how to reply. 

Chan smiled fondly. "Don't worry about me; I'll be fine."

He ruffled Jisung's hair and stalked out of the room and up the staircase again. 

_____

Chan still hadn't returned when the sound of the morning bell blared through the dormitory. When the inmates assembled for their roll call, the line had a gap in the spot where Chan should have been. 

As the warden began making his way down the line, Jisung's mind raced with questions. Where could Chan possibly be? He had always been careful not to get caught - what happened today? 

Jisung absently mumbled a 'yes, sir,' as the warden passed by, ticking away at a clipboard. Within a few seconds, thought Jisung, he would reach Chan's spot. 

The warden stiffened. "Where is he?" He gestured at the place where Chan should have been standing. "Why isn't he here?" 

The inmates shuffled awkwardly in their places, and a soft chorus of 'I don't know' rippled along the line. Jisung's thoughts went back to his chance meeting with Chan on the stairs. Where had he been trying to go? Was he still in one of the many rooms of the facility, absorbed in whatever it was that kept him busy every night? 

"If anyone asks, you don't know where I went," Chan had said. Well, he had been right, because Jisung still didn't have the slightest clue as to where Chan was. It was starting to worry him. 

The warden must have been worried, too, because a siren was wailing through the facility and the sterile white lights flashed red. The warden spoke something about a 'missing 241' into his collar - piece, and soon, staff members were scouring the building for Chan. Someone in the control room had probably trained the cameras on him as well by now. Chan's face stared from every display panel in the facility. 

A key turned in the heavy steel door as one of the wardens locked the inmates in their dormitories. There was already enough trouble with just one of them on the loose. 

Jisung signed and threw himself against the cold headboard of his bed. Some of the other inmates were huddled against the door, trying to overhear the chaos outside. Wherever Chan was, Jisung just hoped he was safe. 

_____

Jisung dragged his feet against the corridor as he made his way towards the mess for supper. It had been three days now, and Chan's bed was still empty. 

Had he run away? Jisung had a with the idea before discarding it; Chan's things were still the drawer beside his bed. Moreover, hadn't he said to Jisung that running away won't solve anything? Jisung's thoughts went back to the day Chan had helped him learn about fireflies in the archives. 

During his time at the facility, Chan had looked out for him and cared for him as a brother would have done. Chan wouldn't have run away, he thought. At least not alone - he probably would have taken Jisung along. It couldn't have been any other way, since Jisung would have done the same for Chan. 

If Chan really had escaped, part of Jisung felt happy for him. The other part of him felt betrayed and cheated that Chan hadn't taken him along. He tried to banish the jealousy from his mind, Hyunjin was working on smuggling him out anyways. It was only a matter of time then; soon, he too would be free. 

It was awful not having Chan around, though. It had only been three days, but Jisung found himself craving the elder's company. Perhaps, after he got out, he could find a way to contact Chan again, somehow. That seemed unlikely, however.

Jisung paused his fantasies of escaping to try and focus on swallowing yet another bite of inedible supper sludge. Hopefully, Hyunjin would bring him something sweet to drive the awful taste out of his mouth. 

The mess hall was even quieter than usual today, owed to the increased number of wardens gliding from table to table. They still hadn't found out what had happened to Chan, though an enquiry was probably underway. 

Yet, none of the staff members admitted it, choosing instead to pretend Chan had never existed unless they were trying to weasel information out of inmates. 

Jisung smirked inwardly at the thought, of course they wouldn't want to admit one of their most dangerously coded inmates had vanished from right under their noses. 

Woojin sat heavily across Jisung at the table, interrupting his flow of thought. "I need you to tell me anything you know about Chan's disappearance." The warden's hands were clasped on the corroded tin table, and there was no plate in front of him. 

Jisung exhaled. "I don't know. I woke up, and his bed was empty by then." 

Woojin was not having any of it. "I know he was very close to you. Wasn't there anything he told you, about where he was going, or what he was doing?" His tone bore a practised nonchalance with an icy undertone. 

Jisung shook his head. "I told you, I don't know."

"Jisung, I need you to cooperate. For all we know, Chan may be in some sort of danger right now." His expression of mock - concern thickened. "If there's something you could tell us, we could find him. Being an outlaw isn't a pleasant life; at least over here there's a chance to return to society."

Jisung seethed beneath the mask of civility be maintained around wardens. Woojin's pretence was sickening. 

It wasn't as though Woojin cared at all about Chan. Being the head warden of the facility, he would be the first one to be questioned if Chan remained at large for over a week, Woojin's superiors were as ruthless as him. 

Well, Jisung thought, it would be nice to see a new warden on campus. In any case, he couldn't have helped Woojin even if he wanted to. 

"I can't tell you anything if I don't know what happened in the first place." He tried to keep the venom out of his tone. 

"Are you sure?" Woojin was picking at his nails with a pocket knife, and the implied threat was not lost on Jisung. 

"I told you," Jisung shrugged, "I'm being honest."

"We'll see about that," Woojin put his knife away as he got up. "You have a session with me tomorrow after breakfast. Don't be late."

"Yes, sir." Jisung grimaced inwardly as he spoke. Woojin was far from done with him. 

_____

  
  


"It's been three days now." 

Jisung was crouched against the hard concrete of the compound wall with Hyunjin by his side. A few metres away, a red - eyed camera searched for intruders and escapees, but Jisung knew it couldn't see them. 

"I just hope he's safe." Jisung sighed, resting his head on Hyunjin"s shoulder. 

"Chan isn't foolish. From what I know about him, if anyone could survive out there, he could." Hyunjin drew an arm around the smaller boy. "He saw me the other day, when I was waiting for you."

"I know, he told me." Jisung sucked on his second lollipop. 

Hyunjin had brought him a bag of assorted confectionary that day. After trying a few kinds of candy, Jisung had decided he liked the lollipops best. Hyunjin had warned him against eating too many for fear of a tummy ache, but Jisung didn't care. The food at the facility gave him food poisoning with an alarming regularity anyways. 

"He was snooping around the grounds when he found me. Maybe he was looking for safe escape routes." Hyunjin pushed his black hair off his forehead. 

Jisung fiddled with the buttons on his uniform. "I don't know. Chan isn't a coward. He had said to me that running away won't solve anything - it doesn't make sense."

"It takes guts to run away from a place like this." Hyunjin pointed out. It was a fair point, and Jisung agreed. 

Even if he had gotten away, Jisung wondered how he would stay away from the authorities. Hyunjin told him about incidents of the police catching runaway inmates every now and then, and the consequences they faced were terrifying. 

"He can't remain a vagabond forever, the police will find him. How do you think he'll find food and shelter?" Jisung asked. 

Hyunjin's forehead creased with worry. "I don't know. Maybe he'll find a sympathiser, or a rebel group. Maybe he'll get his papers done in black and move to another city. He'll figure it out."

Jisung shook his head. "He can't get anything in black, he has no money on him. He left his things here when he disappeared." 

Hyunjin raised a surprised eyebrow. "His things are still here?" 

Jisung nodded. "I moved them to my drawer though, in case the wardens decide to confiscate them."

"Have you gone through them? There might be something there that could give us a clue."

The smaller boy tangled his fingers in the dead grass. "It didn't occur to me." Emptying out Chan's drawer had been an impulsive act independent of reason, and Jisung's only intention at that time was to preserve what little was left to remind him of Chan in case he really had gone away for good. 

Now that Hyunjin mentioned it, though, Jisung wondered how he could have skipped over it. In hindsight, it seemed like the most obvious thing to do. 

"I miss him, Jinnie." Jisung sighed. 

"I know." Hyunjin pulled Jisung into a hug, and the boy began to cry, sobs wracking through his small body. 

They sat in silence as the soft breeze ruffled the dead grass, punctuated by Jisung's sobs. 

"Do you think we'll meet him again someday?" Jisung looked up at Hyunjin through wet eyelashes. 

"We?" Hyunjin's voice was laced with confusion. 

"You know, after I get out of here," Jisung explained. 

Hyunjin raised an absent hands to the back of his neck. He knew how attached the younger boy had been to Chan. "I don't know." He refused to meet Jisung's expectant eyes. "Maybe."

Jisung leant his head against the hard concrete of the wall. Of course, he knew he would probably never see Chan again. It was nice to imagine, though. "Yeah," he said, "maybe." He swiped at the cold remnants of tears on his cheeks. 

Hyunjin exhaled. "About the plan to get you out," he started slowly, "there's been a problem." 

Jisung looked at him questioningly. 

Hyunjin stared at his hands. He wasn't sure how to break the news to Jisung, especially since the boy had let his hopes build upon his plan. Yet, he didn't want Jisung to be cheered by a false hope that would never materialise. 

"The group I told you I was talking to, I think they're operated by the secret police to weed out sympathisers." He looked at Jisung's rapidly falling face. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Jisung shrugged, trying his best to look unaffected by the news. The secret police was everywhere, trying to pinpoint dissenters and sympathisers. He cursed himself for letting his hopes rise.

Of course, he trusted Hyunjin, but it was unfair to expect the older boy to work miracles. Hyunjin had done so much for him over the past three months now, risking himself to bring Jisung snippets of life in the society outside. He only hoped Hyunjin's actions hadn't raised any suspicions with the police. 

"Do you think they're tracking you now?" Jisung asked, concerned. With Chan gone, he couldn't bear the thought of Hyunjin falling prey to the secret police, especially since the tall boy had risked himself for Jisung's sake. The guilt of it would crush him even if the loneliness didn't. 

Hyunjin shook his head. "I never used my own computer, and I used a different account each time I needed to communicate." He stretched, pushing his long limbs upwards instead of sideways to stay out of the camera's view. "I realised quite early that they weren't what they pretended to be, so I don't think I'll be in trouble over it."

"Mmm, stay safe." Jisung reached out a hand to pat Hyunjin's cheek while the other picked another lollipop. 

"Hey, you've already had enough for today." Hyunjin slapped Jisung's hand away from the bag. 

Jisung giggled, sticking out his tongue at the older boy before lunging for the candy bag again. 

Hyunjin lifted the bag out of the shorter boy's reach. "Jisung, really, if you don't stop right now, I'm never getting you candy again."

_____

  
  


The metal armrests of the chair felt just as cold as Jisung remembered as he sat with his wrists handcuffed to them. He shifted uneasily in the chair. Hyunjin had been right - his stomach really was aching badly. 

Right now, though, Jisung had bigger things to worry about. 

The harsh light of the naked white bulbs on the ceiling cast cruel shadows on Woojin's face. The warden was dusting a powder into a liquid filled vial, some of it leaving white flecks on his black uniform as it spilt. Jisung watched in an odd fascination as Woojin carefully held the vial shut with his thumb before shaking it vigorously. 

"We'll see how much we can make you talk today, Jisungie." Woojin's voice was sickly sweet as he examined the vial against the light.

Jisung cringed at the nickname. No one except Chan had ever called him Jisungie. 

The warden swabbed at Jisung's exposed forearm with an iodoform - soaked napkin. Jisung's skin tingled in anticipation of the familiar prick that would follow the icy feeling of antiseptic vapourising off his skin. 

Woojin emptied the vital into a syringe and sunk the needle into Jisung's skin, just as he had done countless times before. 

"You talk so much in the dorms even when you're supposed to be quiet Jisungie, why won't you speak when I need you to?" Woojin's smile was anything but pleasant. 

Jisung shuddered. Whatever drug Woojin had injected him with was not the dose of sedative he normally received. Beyond the familiar fog that was beginning to descend upon his mind, the heaviness of tongue that came regularly was missing. Of course, Woojin had brought him here because he wanted Jisung to talk. 

"Where do you think Chan could be, Jisung?" Woojin asked. 

Jisung groaned softly. "I don't know, I really don't."

Woojin frowned. "I don't think that's true." He produced a knife from his pocket. The blade glinted evilly in the light, but the sight was far too familiar for Jisung to feel intimidated. 

"I'm not lying." Jisung's voice was clear despite the sluggishness of his thoughts. 

"Really?" Woojin pushed the blade against the underside of Jisung's jaw, drawing the slightest amount of blood. 

Jisung swallowed against the knife. "Really."

The blade began tracing a fine red line along Jisung's clavicle, dipping into his unbuttoned collar. The boy clenched his teeth, determined not to show any sign of pain. 

Woojin chuckled softly. "Determined to be a brave boy today, are we?" 

Jisung avoided Woojin's gaze. "Cutting me up won't help me say things I don't know anyways."

The warden paused, letting the knife dig into the tendons at the boy's shoulder. "Why does it always have to be the hard way with you, Jisungie?" He cocked his head to one side, watching as the boy tried not to squirm beneath the blade, tears collecting in his eyes as he whimpered softly. 

He drew the knife out of Jisung's shoulder, and the boy howled in pain. Blood streamed beneath his shirt from the gash, slowly staining the exterior red. 

Woojin slit the back of Jisung's shirt and unbuttoned the front, letting each half pool at his wrists. He dragged the knife along an old scar on the boy's back. "Talk."

Jisung was quivering in the chair, though it only made the knife dig deeper into his skin. Tears soaked his cheeks and thickened his voice when he spoke. "Please," he choked through a sob, "I don't know; I woke up and saw that his bed was empty."

"That's right, but what happened before you woke up?" Woojin was tracing a glistening red line down his spine. 

"Nothing." Jisung was shaking with the force of his sobs. "Please, make it stop." The pain was growing more and more difficult to bear, and at this point Jisung was considering telling Woojin some cooked - up story to make him stop. 

"If you say so." Woojin pulled the knife away, and Jisung let his head dangle onto his chest as he sighed in relief. He breathed heavily, gulping large lungfuls of air as he tried to ignore the agonising burn in his back. 

Woojin picked another instrument from the drawer. This one looked like a metallic rod with a rubber grip at one end. The grip was trailed by a long wire that was plugged in somewhere out of Jisung's sight. Woojin flicked a switch somewhere, but Jisung couldn't observe any immediate change. 

"Don't worry, Jisung, I've got plenty of ways to make you run your mouth." Woojin held the rod by the rubber grip, but didn't do anything. 

Jisung was puzzled. Perhaps it was the pain or the drugs that was clouding his cognition, but he didn't know what to expect from this new device. 

He glanced at it again, and each pore of his body recoiled in fear. 

The rod was starting to glow. It was hot. Jisung whimpered quietly. This was probably the thing that had given Chan the scars on his arms. Jisung could only imagine how much it would hurt when the red hot end of the rod would press against his skin, and the thought alone caused tears to prickle at his eyes once more. 

Woojin smirked at the look of fear in Jisung's eyes. "I'll give you one last chance to talk before -" 

The door opened with a click, and two staff members dressed in all black appeared. "Woojin, the boys found something in the woods," one of them called. 

Woojin did not lift his eyes off Jisung even as he replied. "I'm busy."

"They think it belongs to Chan."

Jisung gasped silently. Could it be that Chan was in the woods? He hoped not, for the staff would not take very long to find him there. 

Woojin turned the instrument off and strode of the room with the staff, locking it shut behind him. 

Jisung sighed as he heard the key turn in the lock. He was still handcuffed and bleeding badly, but at least Woojin wouldn't be back for a while, and when he did return, he probably wouldn't use the hot rod on Jisung. 

Relief washed over the boy, and he put his head down on his chest and sobbed pathetically, his bound hands unable to wipe away the tears that ran hot over his skin and collected at his mouth. 

_____

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jisung, I'm so sorry, sweetie. : (
> 
> I'll make it up in the next chapter with Hyunsung action. 
> 
> What do you think happened to Chan?
> 
> Guys, please comment and tell me what you think of the fic, this silence is killing me. 
> 
> @woojin-god on tumblr, thank you for betaing this, sweetie! 
> 
> Love you, 
> 
> -PoA


	4. Dark

"Mmm, that feels better," Jisung sighed as Hyunjin applied the numbing salve onto the gashes in his back.

  
"You know, when I got this for you, I was hoping you could help yourself when you got injured," Hyunjin chuckled. He collected some more ointment onto his fingers and began working the wound that Woojin had created along Jisung's spine.

  
"I know. I put it on my neck by myself, but I can't see my back, Jinnie." Jisung winced as Hyunjin's fingertips brushed against a particularly inflamed cut.

  
"Sorry," Hyunjin muttered.

  
Jisung groaned softly. By the time Woojin had dabbed iodoform onto his wounds, many of them had already started crusting over with pus. He hoped none of them had developed any infections.

  
They were sitting in the store room of a wholesale grain store, Hyunjin's red lamp colouring the air between the stacks of rice where they sat. Jisung's shirt was flung over a lone sack that stood beside the wall. Hyunjin had wanted to take Jisung to someplace better, but the boy was in no condition to walk after the way Woojin had ruined his back."

"What do you think they found in the woods?" Hyunjin asked, rubbing the remaining ointment on his fingers onto the smaller scrapes on the younger boy's back.

"I don't know." Jisung had lost count of the number of times he had used that phrase in the past few days. "It was something to do with Chan, though, because Woojin let me go after he saw it."  
"Do you think they've reached a conclusion on where he is?"

  
"I think so. They haven't been too stressed about the situation since yesterday." Jisung shrugged. "They found something of Chan's in the woods, I don't know what it was, though."

  
"Do you think he could be hiding in the woods?" Hyunjin sounded concerned. "They'd find him in no time there - the woods aren't that large."

  
"I hope they don't." Jisung's face darkened. "They haven't sent a search party in there yet, though."

  
"That's odd." Hyunjin exhaled, and Jisung felt the older boy's warm breath fan against his bare shoulder. "Why would they do that?"

  
"I don't know." Jisung rested his chin in his hands. "I don't think we can say for sure unless we know what they retrieved from the woods."

  
"Hmm." Hyunjin snapped the pill box shut and slipped it into Jisung's pocket.

  
"I guess I'll have a look at the wardens' quarters tomorrow. I might find something useful." Jisung leaned back to rest his head on Hyunjin's shoulder, careful not to let his back touch the rough fabric of the older boy's shirt.

  
"Stay safe." Hyunjin's reply was the same as always.

  
"You always say that," Jisung giggled, running a hand through his hair.

  
"That's because you always manage to hurt yourself, no matter how careful you promise to be." Hyunjin reached forward into Jisung's lap and held the smaller boy's hand between his own. "I don't like seeing you get hurt like this."

  
Hyunjin's voice was soft, just like the mild graze of his lips against the back of Jisung's neck. The boy shuddered lightly.

  
"Hyunjin!" Jisung's voice sunk to a scandalised whisper. "Don't do that."

  
Hyunjin chuckled. "Why not?" He pressed his lips once again to the smaller boy's neck.

  
Jisung turned around so he was facing Hyunjin. Even though the red light didn't reveal much, Hyunjin knew that the younger's face was probably turning pink.

  
"It's wrong." Jisung's features wore an almost comical look of distress.

  
"Why do you say so?" Hyunjin tried keeping the amusement out of his voice.

  
Jisung was growing more and more flustered with each passing second. "Because," he started, "because certain things are reserved for certain situations." He stared at his hands, avoiding Hyunjin's gaze.

  
"Is that really what they've put into your head at the facility?" Hyunjin clicked his tongue. "Kisses can be for anyone you care about, Jisungie."

  
"No, they can't," Jisung pouted. "You're a man," he mumbled.

  
Hyunjin couldn't help the small smile that rose to his lips. "So? Men can give kisses too."

  
Jisung groaned and hid his face in his hands. "I'm a man too, so giving me kisses is wrong." His face felt hot. He really wished Hyunjin wouldn't dwell so much on uncomfortable topics.

  
The silence between them stretched on for a minute before Hyunjin broke it. "Kisses aren't always sexual. At times, they just mean you care a lot about someone."

  
He squeezed the smaller boy's hand gently. Jisung had probably never received kisses before, having grown up in the sterilised, highly controlled environment of the facility.

  
Hyunjin paused before deciding to speak again. "Actually, I don't think there's anything wrong with something sexual happening between two men either."

  
Jisung's face went red and he swatted at the older boy's shoulder. "Hyunjin, shut up!"

  
_____

  
A faint rustling emerged through the closed door of the medicine cupboard of the wardens' quarters. Jisung rubbed his neck, trying to stretch it to the greatest extent possible in the cramped space around him. He only hoped no one would open it and discover him crouching beneath the shelf that held cough syrup.

  
Getting in had been easy enough. The passwords mentioned in the little handbook that Hyunjin had given him had made each security device blink green. Even in places where the wardens normally placed their palm against a sensor, Jisung had selected the 'override' option and keyed in the passcode instead. It was a skill he had learnt from Chan.

  
Jisung sighed inwardly. Chan was the reason he was here after all. He tried to make himself as comfortable as possible in his awkward position.  
It was going to be a long night.

  
Strains of a conversation carried through the painted metal door of the cupboard, and Jisung snapped to attention.

  
A warden was asking someone if he was done with dinner. A voice replied to say yes, he was done. Jisung tensed at the sound, he knew that voice far too well to not recognise the second warden as Woojin immediately.

  
Noting the mildly deferential tone Woojin used, Jisung guessed the first voice belonged not to a warden, but probably too a supervisor. After more useless banter, Jisung heard something that sounded interesting.

  
"Are we holding a service for the boy?" Woojin spoke.

  
Jisung was confused, he was sure the 'boy' being referred to was Chan. What was puzzling him, though was why a service, whatever that may be, was needed.

  
"I don't think so." There was a frosty silence before he spoke again. "I don't want his disappearance refreshed in everyone's head. The faster we forget about him, the better."

  
"We were supposed to be helping him." Woojin's voice was surprisingly soft, almost hurt. It was an emotion Jisung had never heard him express. "Instead, we made him run away."

  
"Don't take it upon yourself," the other voice replied brusquely. "There's nothing you can do to help these punks; they're here for a reason, you see."

  
Jisung felt anger bubble inside him at the supervisor's words. Somewhere, on the inside, he had always known that the facility was intended to be more for containment than rehabilitation, but hearing it so plainly made his heart sink.

  
"I think we owe the boy a service; I don't think I can bear the guilt of it." Once again, Woojin had mentioned a service. Jisung could vaguely remember the word used in the same context from one of the books he had read with Chan, but he couldn't place the meaning.

  
The supervisor laughed. "Ah, Woojin, you've always been the sensitive one among us."

  
Jisung felt confused. Woojin and sensitive weren't words that went well together at all. He wondered if the supervisor too had once been a warden. If he had indeed been one, Jisung shuddered to think how cruel he might have been to his charges.

  
The supervisor continued. "If it helps your conscience at all, we haven't found his body yet. He might still be alive."

  
Jisung's breathing turned shallow. Ice seemed to spread through his veins as he thought about the supervisor's words. A body? Did that mean…

  
No, surely, Chan couldn't be dead. Jisung felt his head swim as he considered the possibility. Of course, Woojin had been talking about a memorial service. It all made so much sense now, albeit in the worst way possible.

  
Jisung refused to believe it, even as hot tears spilt from his eyes. Chan couldn't be dead, not when Jisung needed him so much.

  
Woojin spoke again, interrupting Jisung's thoughts. "If we haven't found the body yet, we should be looking for it in the woods, and if the boy isn't dead yet, we should be looking for him so we can bring him back." His voice has returned to the emotionless tone Jisung was so used to.

  
"There was blood on the sleeves, Woojin. We found his bloodstained uniform in that damn stream; there's nothing the inspectors can say to us. We can pass it off as a suicide and say he slit his wrists, it fits perfectly."

  
So that's what they found in the woods. Jisung listened through his tears, his imagination supplying him with the image of Chan's white uniform drifting in the stream where Hyunjin had taken him.

  
"It's not about what the inspectors might say, it's about what we're supposed to do in a situation like this." Woojin's voice was rising, and Jisung guessed his temper was starting to flare as well. "Whatever you may say about the boy, we had a duty towards him, and we failed."

  
The supervisor sighed heavily. "I know there are things that we are supposed to be doing, but then again, the government is supposed to be paying us well. Besides, I don't see what you're upset about. The boy was coded 241, anyways. Good riddance, I'll say."

  
Woojin was silent, and Jisung could picture him clenching his fists.

  
"We need to ensure no one else tries pulling off a stunt like this in the future, though." The supervisor yawned. "Call for armed guards tomorrow. If any more of these punks try something funny, they should know they'll be shot."

  
"Yes, sir." Woojin's voice was unreadable.

  
Jisung decided he really, really hated the supervisor. Sure, Jisung didn't know his face yet, but he could recognise the voice, and that was enough.

  
Chan had a special word for people so despicable, one that he had warned Jisung not to use it carelessly. At this moment, though, Jisung knew that had Chan been there, he would have definitely agreed that the supervisor was a unique specimen of motherfucker.

  
_____

  
Jisung glanced at his watch. It was well past midnight, yet the voices in the hall were still talking.

  
The metal inside of the cabinet had misted up with his breath, and the air around Jisung was growing oppressively humid. Jisung hoped they would stop soon and fall asleep - his joints were starting to ache from sitting in such an odd position for so long.

  
A sneeze tickled his nose. Jisung tried his best to hold it in, but it escaped his mouth, the force of it causing his head to hit the cold interior of the cabinet with a dull thud.

  
The voices down the hall fell silent. Jisung hoped fervently that no one had heard him. Sweat began to bead on his upper lip, and all of a sudden, the cabinet seemed to grow smaller around him.

  
"What was that?" A voice asked, and Jisung's blood ran cold.

  
Jisung couldn't hear footsteps through the metal of the cupboard, but be guessed someone was probably walking in the general direction of the cabinet.

  
"It's probably nothing," another voice called.

  
"I'm checking anyways."

  
It was Woojin. Why was it always him? Jisung almost whimpered in fear and rested his head against the metal wall of the cupboard.

  
If he was lucky, no one should be able to find him. The cabinet couldn't be seen from the main hall. There was no way anyone would suspect that there was an inmate crouching in the medicine cabinet. That, however, was if he was lucky.

  
Jisung held his breath and shrank further into the cupboard, trying to curl his small frame as tightly as possible. One of the cabinet doors creaked open to let light in, and Jisung looked up to see Woojin glaring down at him.

"I'll be back," Woojin called, dragging a terrified Jisung out of his hiding place in the cupboard and through the door.

_____

  
"I'm sorry," Jisung blubbered through his tears, "I won't do it again."

  
Woojin pretended not to hear him and continued to bind the boy to the stretcher. Tears ran down Jisung's temple and seeped into his ears.

  
"Please stop," Jisung begged, even as Woojin fitted a slim burette onto a stand. The nozzle hung above Jisung's lower ribs.

  
"You shouldn't have done that." Woojin set a funnel on the burette and picked a bottle from the rack of reagents.

  
"I know," Jisung blubbered, "I'm sorry."

  
"Why did you do it?" The warden poured the transparent liquid into the burette, carefully measuring fifty millilitres. "Eavesdropping is rude, Jisungie. I know we haven't managed to teach you much over here, but I like to think that you might have picked up some basic manners during your time with us."

  
In any other situation, Jisung would have been tempted to retort by saying that it was difficult to learn manners from people who didn't have any, but he resisted. He had done enough wrong already.

  
Woojin unbuttoned the boy's shirt, leaving his skin bare beneath the nozzle. "This isn't the first time you've been caught trespassing, either." The warden removed the funnel and washed his hands.

  
Jisung stared wordlessly, not knowing how to defend himself. He should have been smarter; why hadn't he left the cabinet earlier? No one would have seen him anyways.

  
"I'm sorry about your friend." Woojin slowly twisted the nozzle open. He didn't sound sorry at all.

  
A droplet of acid spilt onto Jisung's chest. The liquid was cold, but it still burnt like nothing Jisung had experienced before.

  
"Tell me if it hurts too much," Woojin's tone was cruelly conversational.

  
Jisung gritted his teeth and nodded. Another drop of acid fell from the burette, and Jisung felt himself shudder in pain.

  
He had been right, it was going to be a long night.

  
_____

  
It was almost morning by the time Jisung was back in his bed. The acid had eaten away the flesh over his ribs, and the plaster Woojin had put over it did not help the slightest.

  
Between the ache in his ribs, his back and his heart, Jisung didn't think he could fall asleep. He shifted his head on his tear - soaked pillow.

  
Chan was gone. Sure, they hadn't found his body, but Jisung knew that he would probably never see Chan again. At this point, even if Chan was alive, Jisung hoped he was somewhere far, far away from the facility where no one would find him.

  
One of the still - healing cuts on his back flared up and a shiver rippled through his body. He groaned softly into his pillow.

  
Woojin had been kind enough to write him a slip excusing him from chores for the whole of tomorrow. It was well enough, for Jisung had plans of his own.

  
Tomorrow would be a long day.

  
_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are was so much more I wanted to add in this chapter, but it was spiralling beyond 3.5k.
> 
> The next chapter will have more significant plot developments.
> 
> What do you think is going to happen?
> 
> Tell me in the comments :)
> 
> Thank you @woojin-god on tumblr for betaing this, sweetie I love you 
> 
> -PoA


	5. Shouldn't

“How’s the burn healing?” Woojin’s tone bore a polite interest.

“Very well, sir.” It was a lie, but Jisung knew the question was merely customary, not intended to elicit an honest response.

“Your anaemia seems to be getting better as well.” Woojin’s gaze roved over Jisung’s head. The reddish dye must have been growing out. Jisung was thankful the colour Hyunjin had chosen was dark enough to pass for deficiency.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t.” The warden leant back against Jisung’s pillows, and Jisung made a mental note to change his bed covers in the evening.

Jisung didn’t know why Woojin was here in the dormitory. He stood as politely as possible while the warden set himself upon Jisung’s bed. Woojin had explicitly excused him from all his duties for the day, and Jisung wondered what the warden could possibly want from him this time.

“Jisung, I need to know exactly why you were in the wardens’ quarters yesterday.” Woojin’s voice had regained its normal pretend - nonchalance.

Oh. So that was what this was about.

Jisung stared at the white floor, hands fidgeting behind his back as he searched for a suitable response. His chest stung heavily, and he knew he couldn’t risk getting into anymore trouble with Woojin until his body healed a bit at least.

“Don’t lie,” the warden said sharply. Jisung had lied to him enough times for him to recognise the signs - the lowered gaze, the bitten lip, the nervous fingers…

Jisung looked up to stare dumbly at Woojin. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not when his tongue was responsible for so many of the scars he had received.

Woojin’s cold stare pierced through him, shattering each lie even before it could leave his lips. “I expect an answer, Jisung.”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung nodded, only to fall silent again. Had Chan been here, he would have had no trouble at all spinning a tale to cover them, and Woojin would have believed it as well. Then again, Chan wasn’t here, and that was why Jisung had gotten into this mess to begin with.

The silence grew oppressively thick before Woojin’s sigh rippled it. “I know you’re still recovering; don’t make me hurt you again.”

Would it be so bad if he told Woojin he wanted to know what had really happened to Chan? Would his honesty go unpunished this time? It was unlikely. It was equally improbable, however, that his silence would be forgiven by Woojin.

“I wanted to know what the scouts found in the woods.” Jisung kept his gaze fixed on the tiled floor, not daring to look up.

“Hmm,” Woojin’s fingers laced themselves on his lap. “How did you get past the security system?”

Jisung’s throat went dry. There was no way he could tell Woojin about the handbook Hyunjin had given him. “I - I hid in the corridor and followed one of the wardens through the door.” Jisung hoped the warden hadn’t caught his stuttering. He swallowed, awaiting Woojin’s response meekly.

“Liar.” It was a statement, not an accusation. Woojin spoke it with the conviction of someone who knew he was right.

Jisung felt his upper lip grow hot with sweat. He lowered his head, attempting to feign a shame he didn’t feel. “Chan told me the password.” That should be a lot more believable. 

Normally, Jisung would have felt guilty pinning the blame on Chan, but it wasn’t as though he could return anyways. 

“That sounds more like it.” Jisung relaxed internally; Woojin had swallowed his lie. “I wonder how he got the password, though.” The warden eyed Jisung, and his suspicion did not escape Jisung’s notice.

“I don’t know, sir.” Jisung blinked, “there are many things about Chan that I don’t know.” The second part of the statement was not entirely false.

“I see.” The warden cocked his head to one side. “I’d like to know, what else has Channie been teaching you, Jisung?”

Jisung cringed at the nickname. The promise of more pain to come lay thinly veiled behind Woojin’s words, and once again, Jisung searched hard for an answer.

“Many things, sir,” he said blankly.

“I need you to be more specific than that.” Woojin’s eyes locked with Jisung’s, and the boy averted his gaze immediately.

“He taught me English,” Jisung started carefully. English was the least suspicious item on the long list of things Jisung had learnt from Chan. The boy inhaled deeply before continuing. “He also taught me other things. You know, avoiding cameras, looking for hidden microphones, and such.”

Those shouldn’t cause much of a problem, they were essential skills every inmate knew anyways. Jisung paused, unsure of what else he could tell Woojin without sounding too suspicious. 

There was no way he could mention breaking into the server room to erase camera footage, or the secret passages formed by the plumbing, the access code to the tablet archives…

“What else?” The warden’s arms were folded across his chest, and his face was an unreadable mask. That was not a good sign at all.

“Nothing,sir.”

“Liar.”

Woojin’s eyebrows tensed in a silent indication of rage to come. He struck Jisung heavily across the face, and the boy staggered, closing his eyes around the pain ringing in his skull.

“No, sir,” he whispered.

“What else did he tell you?” Woojin held Jisung by the neck.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar situation, but it terrified Jisung beyond measure every single time.

Jisung gulped against the pressure of Woojin’s hand on his throat. Though Woojin’s grip wasn’t tight enough to choke Jisung, he could feel the blood starting to pool dizzyingly in his head.

“He taught me how to lie,” Jisung gasped through the tears beginning to sting his eyes. His fingers and toes were going numb slowly, and a dull ache was buzzing in his ears. 

“Well, he didn’t do a very good job of that, now, did he?” 

Woojin’s fingers tightened ever so slightly around the boy’s neck, and Jisung let out a choked squeal.

“Sir, please,” he whimpered. His eyes were pleadingly moist, and his face felt swollen with trapped blood. Another five seconds of this, and his teeth would begin to tingle from the asphyxiation.

Woojin let go of Jisung, and the boy crumpled to the floor, gasping. The floor seemed to turn liquid beneath him, and his vision was blackening, but huge lungfuls of air rushed down his throat. Jisung’s legs quivered beneath him as he tried unsuccessfully to stand, and he supported himself on his hands instead to sit straighter on the tiled floor.

The warden stared down at Jisung. “You weren’t bad, Jisung. I don’t know when you became this way.” He sighed. “I guess God was right when he gave you that tattoo.”

Jisung nodded mindlessly, not comprehending Woojin’s words as his breathing tried to return to normalcy. 

Woojin stalked out of the room, leaving Jisung on the floor without helping him to his feet. The warden was at the doorway when Jisung called to him.

“Sir.”

The warden turned to face the boy.

“You don’t really think Chan is dead, do you?” Jisung didn’t know how he mustered the audacity to ask that, but the question rolled off his tongue even before he realised.

Woojin’s mouth tightened into a thin line. When he spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless. “Wherever he may be, I trust God shall see to it that he is well.” 

With that, Woojin left, leaving a puzzled Jisung kneeling in the empty dormitory.

_____

  
  


“He dribbled acid all over me, and today, he held me by my neck, Jinnie,” Jisung narrated to a mortified Hyunjin.

“What a monster,” Hyunjin whispered, forehead crumpled in second - hand anguish.

Though he would never admit it, Jisung enjoyed Hyunjin about the ways in which the wardens punished him. Being as sensitive as he was, the older would pour sympathy onto Jisung’s wounds, and it was a taste to which Jisung was getting increasingly addicted.

“Show me.” Hyunjin’s fingers undid the buttons on his shirt, and Jisung shrugged the fabric away to reveal the gauze - dressed burn.

Jisung winced as Hyunjin peeled away the plaster as gently as possible to look at the inflamed skin beneath. “That hurts.” 

“It’s turned yellow.”

“It’s what!?” 

Jisung glanced down at his chest fearing the worst; the skin had indeed turned a frightfully bright yellow.

Hyunjin laughed at Jisung’s exaggerated look of distress. “Don’t worry, it’s normal.” He adjusted the plaster back onto the boy’s chest. “He must have used nitric acid; it turns the skin yellow.” Of course Hyunjin would know; he’d wanted to become a scientist, after all.

“What if it stays yellow, Jinnie?” Jisung whispered distressedly.

“It won’t, silly,” Hyunjin chuckled as he worked the buttons of Jisung’s shirt shut. “It’ll grow back soon. Even if it doesn’t, it’s a pretty colour. A lot like a canary, I think.”

“A canary?” Jisung blinked.

“It’s a bird,” Hyunjin explained, “and it’s as yellow as your skin is right now.”

“Oh.” 

Jisung definitely didn’t mind a cheerful yellow at all, especially given the colourless monotony of the facility. However, he was of the opinion that bright colours should be reserved for canvasses more suitable than skin.

The steady rumble of water accented the silence between them.

The woods were dark in the late evenings, but now, the grey light of the sky sifted through layers of branches to colour the pine needles a faded green. The stream gurgled past the lichen - covered rocks where they sat. The water seemed as clear as the day Jisung had first seen it, but he knew that the stream would probably turn into a sludge - filled sewer once it crossed into the city.

“About Chan,” Jisung swallowed, “I heard what the wardens think happened to him.”

“Did they find him?” 

Jisung shook his head. “No, but it’s much worse.”

Hyunjin’s eyes were wide as he waited for Jisung to continue.

Jisung inhaled deeply. “They found his uniform in the stream, Jinnie. It was bloody at the sleeves - near the wrists.” 

The smaller boy buried his face in Hyunjin’s chest. It was so painful to have those words run through his mind once more; to imagine once again what might have happened to Chan. Hyunjin put a comforting arm around Jisung.

“Do you mean to say, he might have…” The older’s voice sank to a shocked whisper as he considered the possibility.

Jisung nodded into Hyunjin’s shirt, tears starting to seep through the thin fabric. He had lost count of the number of times he had cried over the past few days, but that didn’t stop him from sobbing yet again.

“It can’t be, Chan wouldn’t do something like that.” Hyunjin raised an absent hand to pet Jisung’s hair. 

Jisung didn’t reply. His slight frame was trembling in Hyunjin’s arms as he cried, and the taller boy hoped for Jisung’s sake that Chan was alive and safe, wherever he may be. 

“They haven’t found the body, though, have they?”

The younger shook his head. “That still doesn’t mean anything. We can’t say he’s alive unless we know for sure that he isn’t dead.”

“Hush, now, don’t say that!” Hyunjin’s dabbed at the tears turning the boy’s cheek pasty.’I’m sure he’s someplace better. If he’s alive, he escaped the facility. If he isn’t, he escaped our society. Either way, he has won.”

“Mmm, you’re right, I guess.” It wasn’t a very optimistic argument, but it was enough for Jisung. After all, in his world, hope was a currency accepted solely by the delusional.

“I went through his things this morning.” Jisung tugged at Hyunjin’s collar to wipe his wet eyes.

“Did you find anything?”

“No,” Jisung sniffed, “I was hoping to find his diary, but I saw only textbooks in his bag.”

It had been sorely disappointing. Jisung had scoured through the pockets of the black bag Chan had left at the facility, only to find a stack of cheaply typed reading material. He doubted he would find answers to Chan’s disappearance in tablets titled ‘Word of God,’ or ‘Our Duties as Citizens.’

“The electronic kind or the printed ones? If they’re paper books, you could look for notes he’s taken.”

“They’re the electronic variety. Paper books are too expensive for us, Jinnie.” With so few trees around, paper was a luxury reserved for a few.

Jisung sighed. Their hopes of finding Chan had curled into smoke over yet another dead end.

Hyunjin shifted, pulling Jisung off his chest. “There’s something I need to tell you, too.”

The younger boy looked up at him expectantly, large eyes framed in damp eyelashes.

“I can’t come over as often next week onwards.” Hyunjin exhaled, avoiding Jisung’s gaze. He nudged a fallen pine cone with his foot. “I’ll have to be on duty as a ticket collector from Monday, and the hours are long on most days.”

“So soon? Didn’t you just have your telling?”

“Yeah, the training period isn’t very long.” Hyunjin grimaced. “I don’t like it, but at least I’ll be earning for myself.”

“And you’ll have a place of your own, too!” Jisung found the prospect of having an ‘own’ place to live immensely exciting, even if it was in one of the gloomy government - provided barracks. It was probably because he had been in the dorms all his life.

“A place of my own, that’s right, but there’s rent to pay. That doesn’t leave much for my other expenses.” A ticket collector’s position did not offer much of a salary. “I can’t change my job either, Jisungie. I’ll be stuck this way for the rest of my life.”

Jisung fiddled with a button on his shirt. It sounded awful, though still better than the facility. Given a chance to live like that, Jisung would gladly accept it.

“It doesn’t sound like such a bad deal to me,” Jisung shrugged.

“Of course, it doesn’t.” Hyunjin offered a lopsided smile. “I can’t even imagine what they’ve been doing to you here.” He sighed. “I hate it, though.”

“It’s just as well you won’t be able to be over as much, however.” Jisung rested his head on the taller boy’s shoulder. “They’re putting armed guards at the fences next week. They say they’ll shoot anyone else who tries to get away.”

Hyunjin sucked in his breath. ‘That’s nasty. Was that Woojin’s idea, too?”

“No, it was the supervisor’s.” Jising shuddered, remembering the frightening callousness with which the supervisor had spoken of doing away with problematic inmates. “He’s in a league of his own.”

“Wow, I thought Woojin was as bad as they got.” Hyunjin laughed humourlessly, running a hand through his black hair.

“Nah, they’re full of surprises.” Jisung laced his fingers through Hyunjin’s. “That’s not the point, though. You need to be careful.”

Hyunjin snorted. “So says the boy who just got acid poured on himself.”

“Jinnie, this is serious,” Jisung chided. “I don’t want anything happening to you.”

“Yeah, we could meet in the woods - the side that touches the highway isn’t fenced. I think it’ll be the only place safe enough for us.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Jisung put both his arms around Hyunjin and pulled him close. “You won’t stop coming altogether, will you?” His voice was quiet, just a shade higher than the babble of the stream.

“I won’t.” The black - haired boy leant slightly into the younger’s embrace. “I’ll be here every Tuesday. It’s the only holiday I get in a week.”

“I’m going to miss you so much, Jinnie.” Jisung let his lips peck at Hyunjin’s jaw. Kisses really were for anyone you cared about, weren’t they?

“Hey, don’t be sappy; it isn’t like we’re never going to meet again, Jisungie.” Hyunjin chuckled.

“I know, but you’re so sweet to me; you get me pretty things each time.” Jisung pouted.

Hyunjin gasped in a dramatic display of mock - offence. “Is that the only reason you like me?”

“Jinnie, no! You know that’s not what I meant,” Jisung whined, “and I’m not sappy, stop calling me that.”

“You shouldn’t be so attached to me.”

The sky was beginning to darken, and colour was slowly seeping out of the forest. Within a few minutes, the insects would commence their nocturnal chorus.

“Hyunjin, if you’ve got a bit more time to spare, I was thinking…” Jisung trailed off, looking up at the older boy uncertainly.

Hyunjin returned his gaze, dark eyes expectant.

“Could you take me to see the fireflies again?”

_____

Later that night, Jisung lay awake in his bed as gentle snores filled the sleeping dormitory.

Hyunjin wouldn’t be able to visit the facility everyday, starting next week. Though he hated to admit it, Jisung had grown far closer to the boy that he would have liked.

Now, with Chan gone, Hyunjin’s visits were the only thing Jisung looked forward to in his monotonous schedule. Jisung wasn’t sure how someone o fiercely independent could have slipped through the mesh of scans and tests designed to weed out even the most innocuous signs of non - compliance. 

He loved the way chaos manifested in Hyunjin’s perfection - the way his regulation - compliant haircut was always tousled, the way his sleeves were folded to show an inch more of skin than allowed, the way his shoelaces were always secured but his collar button wasn’t.

Of course, there were the other boys in the facility, but none of them were quite like Hyunjin. The conversations Jisung shared with them were as uninteresting as the grey sky that hung above the facility. Head down, eyes lowered, and lips pursed - that was how they lived beneath the white ceiling and red - eyed cameras.

Jisung hoped fervently that Hyunjin wouldn’t miss any of their now weekly dates amidst the demands of his job, or worse, stop visiting altogether. The thought made Jisung draw his thin blanket tighter around himself on his lumpy mattress.

Jisung shivered beneath his blanket. When had he grown so dependent on Hyunjin? The black - haired boy was supposed to be his window to the world outside, nothing more.

Yet, in the chilly darkness of the dormitory, Jisung found himself craving the older boy’s warm embrace to drive his worries away.

He closed his eyes, and his fertile imagination supplied Hyunjin’s warmth around him, the roughness of his coarse shirt against Jisung’s cheek, the feeling of his fingers carding gently through the younger’s hair…

Jisung shifted against his limp pillow, indulging himself as his mind coloured his fantasy with more intricate details. He could hear Hyunjin’s soft breathing against the snores in the dormitory; he could see every wrinkle on the older’s dark trousers.

Hyunjin’s arm tightened around Jisung’s waist, and Jisung leant back into his chest. Soft lips pressed against Jisung’s forehead, and the boy sighed as Hyunjin’s kisses traced a dotted line that descended past his cheek, his jaw, his neck, and -

Jisung’s eyes flew open. Where had that come from? He shouldn't be thinking things like that, not about Hyunjin, or anyone else for that matter. His skin still tingled guiltily from an imaginary kiss on his neck.

Jisung chided his imagination for conjuring up something so distasteful. He couldn’t close his eyes, fearing he would lapse into yet another awful fancy.

It was of no use. A memory came back to him - Hyunjin unbuttoning his shirt to look at his burn, only instead of concern and mild curiosity, the older’s dark eyes smouldered with something Jisung couldn’t quite place.

The shiver that trembled through Jisung’s body had nothing to do with the cold, and to his horror, he found a part of him enjoying the deplorable visions that flashed past him, spurring his imagination to give him more. His mind gladly complied.

Jisung felt Hyunjin’s fingers against his bare back, but this time, instead of rubbing salve into his cuts, the boy’s palms were flat against his skin, moving slowly and purposefully in a way that made it impossible for Jisung to fight the tingling heat that pooled embarrassingly in his stomach.

Jisung clawed at his mattress, squirming as he tried in vain to shut away the thoughts that invaded his conscience.

His mind’s eye filled with Hyunjin - his fingers skimming over Jisung’s uncovered chest, his arms tugging Jisung closer as he pulled the younger onto his lap, his hands cupping Jisung’s face while his lips hovered torturously close…

No, no, no; this shouldn’t be happening; it was wrong; it was despicable. Jisung felt filthy as he lay covered by his blanket, skin burning wherever imaginary Hyunjin had touched him.

He sighed and whipped his blanket off, feet touching the icy tiles. The chilly tap water splashed against his skin as he leant into the basin at the lavatory down the corridor. 

“You shouldn’t be so attached to me,” Hyunjin had said. Oh, Jisung knew.

_____

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this was just a bunch of self indulgent crap, sorry. I've got a surprise waiting for you guys in the nest chapter, though (haha).  
Please tell me what you think, what you want to see, what you liked and disliked. I'm weak for comments :)
> 
> Unbeta'ed, because I was so excited to share this gay panic. Once Jojo is done, I'll upload the version without the errors.
> 
> About nitric acid, it reacts with protein in skin to form xanthoproteic acid. It turns your skin as yellow as tweety on exposing the burn to a base, I'm not kidding. For a brighter colour, use concentrated acid. It's a really pretty colour, but it hurts like hell, 0/10, I do not recommend trying this at home.
> 
> You guys are the best! <3  
Mwah!  
-PoA


	6. Blue

Jisung shivered slightly as his forearms touched the icy glass desk of the server room. The air conditioning was always set to an unbearably low temperature, and Jisung’s thin uniform wasn’t doing much to keep the cold away. Chan had mentioned something about “preventing the servers from overheating” when Jisung had first complained about the chill.

The room was dark, but the soft glow of the panel was all Jisung needed. He tapped away at the smooth glass, entering the access code from memory.

He had locked the door behind him when he entered, but that didn’t prevent him from glancing around nervously every few minutes. Jisung only hoped no one would pass the room, or they would see the blue glow of the computer through the little glass window at the top of the door.

There was a soft beep, and the display blinked green.

Jisung hadn’t planned to come to the server room tonight, but the access code to the tablet archives had been changed. It was upsetting. At least he had a book to keep him company until he managed to get the new password. 

Jisung remembered the tablet stashed between his textbooks in the dormitory. ‘Lost Works from the Red Wave,’ the cover had proclaimed. Jisung hadn’t found the time to read it yet, but he would, soon enough.

For now, though, he needed to find the new password. In all likelihood, it would be stored somewhere on the system in the server room, but Jisung didn’t know where exactly. It would be a lot more convenient to just wait until he went on duty to the archives again, and then steal the passcode.

Jisung navigated through the mesh of files and records, finally finding the datasheet of all charges at the facility. It didn’t take him long to find a folder bearing his name. He clicked on the square icon, and it spiralled into a list of files that contained all that the facility knew about Jisung - his genetic code, his behavioural records, his timeline, and all the camera and microphone footage the surveillance system had collected of him.

The timeline was the only thing that Jisung found particularly useful. He would scan the list of chores scheduled for him each day, and then decide what to do at night, or what time to sneak out to meet Hyunjin. Somehow, there was always a convenient window in his timetable in the evenings when he could meet the raven-haired boy.

Hyunjin. Jisung felt odd thinking about the older boy. It had only been three days, yet he found himself craving Hyunjin’s company with an intensity he didn’t think was possible. The day after tomorrow, Hyunjin would be at the woods again, and Jisung would be waiting for him with a besotted smile and a long, long list of things he wanted to tell him about.

The timeline was a long green line marked with dates and tasks typed in tiny font. Today was marked with a red dot, and the line broke into dashes where it extended into tomorrow and the days to come.

Jisung zoomed in on the coming week. Sure enough, there was nothing scheduled for Tuesday evening. That was good. There was another labour day, a cleaning day, archive duty, a breeding...

Jisung stopped. A breeding? Chan had told him there was a breeding planned for him, but wasn’t that supposed to be after he turned eighteen? 

Jisung glanced at the date and time at the corner of the screen. 7/09. Jisung began counting on his knuckles. 09, that was September, wasn’t it? And if it was already the seventh, then his birthday was five days away, just like his breeding.

It was sick. He would be bred on the very day he would come of age. He panned into the note that mentioned his breeding. 

12/09

Han Jisung : 164

Breeding

Bridge chamber 03

1000 hours

Last Edit : System event : 01/08 : 0000 hours

Beneath, in tinier letters, was the name of the girl he would be bred with. Jisung resisted the temptation to read. Knowing her name would make it so much worse. 

Jisung sighed and pinched back to the week’s timetable. He hoped Hyunjin would remember to come on Tuesday. It was the only highlight of the coming week, apart from what would prove to be Jisung’s worst birthday ever.

The note signifying his breeding flickered on the screen. The displays must be glitching again; the ancient systems hadn’t been updated since their installation at the facility.

Jisung was about to move to the surveillance files to delete any footage of him snooping about, when the even flickered once more.

Huh, that was odd.

The text indicating his breeding glitched one final time, and Jisung watched in shock as it vanished from sight even as he sat still in his chair. In its place was a new note.

Event deleted : System 17 : 07/09 : 0013 hours

_____

  
  


“It what!?”

“It vanished, just like that!” Jisung gesticulated wildly.

Hyunjin rested his face in his palms. “Does that mean you won’t have a breeding now?”

“Hopefully.”

The barbed wire fence separated the woods from the highway behind the rock where the boys sat. Hyunjin’s regular backpack had been replaced by his new ticket collector’s bag. It was a pale blue, and Jisung was worried it would stain with the dirt that it lay on.

“The edit was made on system 17. That means whoever did it was in Computer Room 17,” Jisung guessed.

“Aren’t the wardens not allowed to access computers past midnight?”

“Yes, but this edit was at just thirteen minutes past twelve.”

“It’s still past midnight.” Hyunjin shrugged. “It’s against the rules.”

“When did you become so picky about rules?”

Hyunjin giggled. “I’ve always been this way.”

“Yeah, it shows,” Jisung snorted. “That’s why you keep sneaking in here, isn’t it? Because you’re so much about following rules.”

“I’m picky about rules only when they apply to people I don’t like,” Hyunjin clarified, scrunching up his nose slightly.

“Hmm.” Jisung toed an ant out of its line. “I wonder who it was, though.”

“It doesn’t have to be a person. The algorithms make decisions on their own sometimes.”

“I know, but those happen at midnight. The timestamp was 0013, not 0000.”

Hyunjin was silent. 

“I missed you,” he put an arm around Jisung.

“Look who’s getting too attached now,” the younger boy giggled. Deep down though, Jisung knew it was a farce. He rushed to change the topic. “Did you get me anything special?”

Hyunjin nodded.

“Is it candy? I’m done with the lollipops you got me last time.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. “Already!? You shouldn’t eat so many; it isn’t good for you.”

Jisung stuck out his tongue at the older boy. “You can’t stop me, Jinnie.”

“I’m never getting you candy again.”

He rummaged about his pale blue bag one-handedly. Jisung watched as he produced a small circular device.

“Is that for me?”

Hyunjin nodded.

“It’s tiny,” Jisung pouted.

The raven-haired boy clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You don’t know how expensive these are. I pinched it from a passenger’s handbag.”

Jisung laughed. “Stealing from passengers already? It’s barely been a week since you got your job, Jinnie.”

“I know, but I’m getting good at it already,” Hyunjin chuckled. He touched a button, and the circle hinged open to reveal two shiny surfaces.

“What is it?”

The older boy handed the device to Jisung. “A mirror.”

Hyunjin watched the younger boy’s lips part slightly as he peered into the hinged glass. Jisung had probably never seen his reflection properly before - there were no mirrors in the facility. Mirrors were expensive outside, too, but that’s why Hyunjin had stolen one instead.

“Wow,” Jisung whispered, “do I really look like that?” He touched his hair; the deep red dye had grown out enough to reveal dark brown hair. There was a mole on his cheek that he never knew existed.

“Yeah, you do.”

Jisung snapped the mirror shut. “How much does one of these cost?”

“A lot more than most people can afford. It’s to prevent people from becoming too vain and selfish, or whatever.” Hyunjin shrugged. 

“Oh, so you don’t get these easily outside the facility either?”

Hyunjin nodded.

“Jinnie, do you have a mirror of your own, too?” 

“No, but I thought you would like it more; because you’ve never properly seen yourself, you know.” The older boy fingered the zipper of his bag.

“Thank you,” Jisung murmured, pocketing the mirror. “I really liked it.”

“You always like the things I get you.” Hyunjin pushed his black hair off his face. 

It wasn’t very dark yet, but a firefly gleamed in the air between them. Jisung reached out a hand to catch it, but it flew out of reach. Hyunjin laughed, ruffling the smaller boy’s hair fondly. 

“You’re cute.”

“I - what?” Jisung turned to look at the older boy.

“I said you’re cute, Jisungie. I know you’ve been in the facility all your life, but you’re still so innocent. Childlike, almost.”

“I’m not innocent,” Jisung pouted. “And I’m not a child, I’m turning eighteen next week.”

“Of course you aren’t, you’re a big boy now, aren’t you,” Hyunjin teased.

“Jinnie, stop!” Jisung swatted at the taller boy’s shoulder. His cheeks were beginning to feel warm.

“You’re so easily flustered.” Hyunjin put his arms around the smaller boy. “Baby,” he taunted.

Jisung squirmed in Hyunjin’s grip. “Don’t hug me now, I’m really annoyed with you.”

“But I want to,” Hyunjin drew his arms tighter around Jisung’s small frame, and the younger felt his skin grow hot.

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll hit you.” Jisung could feel his heart quicken with the feeling of Hyunjin’s skin against his own.

“Yeah, sure,” Hyunjin mocked. “I know you won’t - you like me far too much to do anything of that sort.”

“No, I don’t.” Jisung jabbed at the older’s forearm harmlessly. “Take that,” he sulked. 

“Ah, you’re precious,” Hyunjin chuckled, letting go of Jisung.

_____

  
  


The camera footage from computer room 17 played on the large screen of the server room. Jisung sped through the frames, looking for any human figure in the unlit gloom. There was nothing, no one. 

Jisung was starting to grow tired of watching the uneventfully dull footage, when the room was dimly illuminated by the mild glow of a computer screen. Jisung paused the recording, eyes flickering to the timestamp.

06/09 : 2358 hours

That was when the computer had been switched on. But where was the person operating the system? The camera whose footage Jisung was watching was facing the door, but nobody had entered. 

Had the person been inside all along, then?

Jisung swiped back to the masterclass of surveillance systems and picked another camera. Sure enough, there was a figure in black seated at the desk. Jisung didn’t recognise him, though. His dark hair seemed almost blue in the reflected light of the screen in front of him. A new warden, perhaps, or maybe just one he had never seen before.

The man turned slightly in his chair, and Jisung saw that the greater part of his face was covered by a pollution mask. He typed onto the black glass for a while, and then paused to look at the screen. Whatever he had seen there must have really displeased him, because he shook his head in what Jisung assumed was frustration. The warden tapped at the screen some more before he tensed suddenly. His feline eyes flashed around the room, noticing the camera. 

Jisung couldn’t see what he did when he turned back to the computer, but within a minute, the feed from the camera was replaced by grey static. Jisung leaned back in his chair, noting the timestamp.

07/09 : 0007 hours

Jisung swallowed. The edit had been made at 0013 hours, just six minutes later. There was no doubt that the man in the pollution mask had made the edit. But who was he? Jisung had never seen him at the facility before. And if Jisung didn’t know him, he probably didn’t know Jisung either.

Why, then, did he edit Jisung’s timeline?

Jisung went to his folder in the facility datasheet and opened his timeline. The note signifying the deletion of his breeding was still there, typed in small font against the dotted green line. Nothing had changed. Jisung hadn’t expected it to, either.

He sighed and moved to the surveillance folder to clear any unwanted footage of himself. Jisung was in the middle of deleting a clip of him tiptoeing out of the dormitory when the door creaked.

Jisung froze. Had he locked the door? He couldn’t remember doing so, but he was sure he had done so. The screen was still on. Anyone passing by in the corridor outside would see that someone was inside through the glass window atop the door.

He turned around slowly, not daring to breathe. If anyone found him in the server room, he would definitely get a flogging in front of the rest of the charges.

The door swung open slowly, whining slightly as the old steel hinges moved.

A warden walked in silently. No, this wasn’t any warden, this was the man Jisung had seen in the footage from computer room 17. Jisung couldn’t see him clearly with only the light of the screen, but he recognised the cat-like eyes and almost blue hair. He wasn’t wearing a mask, and Jisung saw a straight nose and set mouth framed by a pointed chin.

“You aren’t supposed to be here, are you, cutie?” His accent was odd, just like the lazy drawl with which he spoke.

Cutie? This man, he wasn’t a warden, was he?

He giggled softly. 

No, there was no way he could be a warden.

“You don’t work here.” Jisung blinked.

Another chuckle.

“No, I don’t.” The man shut the door behind himself. “Increase the brightness, I can barely see you.”

Jisung gawked. “How did you get past the guards?” 

“That doesn’t matter, sweetie.” He sat in the chair beside Jisung. “Stop staring, it’s rude.” He reached out to change a setting at the corner of the screen, and Jisung squinted as the display grew brighter.

In the light, he could see that the man’s hair was indeed a very dark blue and not black. His clothes, too weren’t the regular uniforms wardens wore. His trousers were denim, and they had little rips at the knees.

“Move.” The man pushed Jisung’s elbow off the desk and typed something into the black glass. A new console opened on the screen, one that Jisung didn’t recognise.

“Who are you?”

“Mmm?” The man was still focused on his typing, glancing at the time at the corner of the display. 2359 hours.

If he had been someone from the facility, Jisung would have been terrified, but he wasn’t. Well, Jisung couldn’t be sure, but somehow, he couldn't imagine this pointy-faced man working for the facility or any of its affiliated institutions.

“I asked you something.”

The man absently tilted his head in Jisung’s direction. “I know, sweetie, but there’s something I need to get done in the next forty seconds, so excuse me for a bit, will you?” His fingers still moved across the desk, occasionally rising to swipe at the screen.

Jisung sighed and leaned back in his chair. The nicknames were really starting to annoy him. “I could report you, you know? You could get arrested; there are armed guards all over this place.”

The man laughed. “You’re cute, aren’t you?” He tapped at the screen before turning to Jisung fully. “You think I don’t know that what I’m doing is illegal? If you tried reporting me, imagine what they’d do to you for being out at this hour, especially in a room like this.”

He had a point. Jisung couldn’t report anything without giving himself away. 

“You were here the day before yesterday, weren’t you? You were in computer room 17.”

“I forgot to delete the camera footage, didn’t I?” The man raised a hand to touch his odd blue hair. “I don’t normally, but I was in a hurry last night.” He had exited the console, and was now erasing the camera footage Jisung had been working on.

“You deleted my breeding as well.”

“Oh, so you’re Jisung.” The man’s eyes widened. “You really do look like a squirrel, in a cute sort of way.” He put his chair back in place and stood up. 

Jisung grimaced. “No one outside the facility knows me.” 

The man smiled slyly. “Not even Chan?”

Jisung stiffened. “Chan? You know him?”

“I’ve said too much already, haven’t I?” The man chortled as he pulled the door open as softly as possible. “Well, Jisung, I’d really appreciate it if you left the server room empty tomorrow; I’m on a really tight schedule and dealing with boys who are up past their bedtime really messes with my timing.”

“Wait, where’s Chan?” Jisung dashed to the door.

“That really doesn’t matter now, cutie.” The man tried to shut the door, but Jisung gripped the handle from the other side.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t need to know that yet. Let go of the door.”

“I won’t, unless you tell me.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Minho. I’m Minho.”

Jisung let go of the handle slowly, but Minho didn’t rush to close the door.

“You won’t tell anyone about this, will you, sweetie?” Minho asked, his cat-like eyes piercing through Jisung.

“No,” Jisung shook his head. “Only if you tell me about Chan tomorrow, though.”

Minho smirked. “Be a good boy for me, and I’ll see what I can do.”

With that, Minho forced the door shut, leaving Jisung alone in the blue glow of the monitor.

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!  
Sorry for the late update. Tell me what you think of Minho's character and what you want to see him doing in the future. Any theories about Chan? Unbetaed because Jojo is kinda busy.  
FEED ME COMMENTS, please I'll starve without them.
> 
> There's more Hyunsung action coming up, along with a Woojin surprise.
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking around with this shit <3  
-PoA


	7. Dread

“Which one is your warden, again?” Minho peered at the group photo on the screen.

“This one.” Jisung pointed out. “He’s Woojin.”

“He’s hot.”

“What!?” Jisung snorted. He wasn’t sure he’d heard Minho right through his accent. 

The glow of the monitor was the only light that illuminated Minho’s profile in the server room. The corner of the screen bore the time in small font - 0047 hours.

“I said what I said.” Mino shrugged.

Jisung stared at the display. If he thought about it hard enough, Woojin did have nice features. “He’s a monster.”

“Such a pity,” Minho sighed. “What about your boyfriend; what’s his name?” 

Jisung groaned. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“That isn’t true.” Minho folded his arms across his chest. “I’ve seen him drop you off at the gate at times on days when I come early.”

“How long have you been coming here for?” Jisung’s eyes were wide. How had he never noticed Minho before?

“Ah, that doesn’t matter, sweetie.” Minho glanced down at his nails. “I’ve been around long enough to know there’s something between you and that black-haired boy.”

Jisung stared at his hands. “I don’t even like men,” he mumbled. It was a lie, and Jisung knew it.

“He’s pretty.” Minho opened another console on the system. “I’m sure he likes you, too. Tell him how you feel; it’s worth it.”

Jisung hid his face in his hands. “Hyung, stop.” It had only been two days, but speaking casually with Minho felt natural. 

The blue-haired man smiled. “Life is too short to pretend you don’t like men, honey.”

Jisung watched as Minho pressed a tiny disk against the black glass. The desk began to glow a faint blue around the disk. On the screen, a progress bar flashed green while numbers and letters flickered in the background. 

“What’s that?”

“This?” Minho gestured at the disk with his free hand. “Storage disk.”

“Didn’t those go out of production years ago?” Jisung remembered Chan telling him about how the newer cybercafes didn’t accept his soft disks any more when he was fourteen.

“They did,” Minho shrugged, “but this system is old enough to accept them. Moreover, soft disks are harder to trace than cloud capsules.”

'Copying 397 of 9273 selected files,’ the message on the screen proclaimed.

“Isn’t this illegal?” 

“What, borrowing files from a tax-funded computer?” Minho raised a questioning eyebrow. “Tell me something new, cutie.”

Jisung moved closer to the screen. “What do you do with all of this data?”

Minho’s eyes didn’t leave the display. “Once again, honey, that doesn’t matter.”

“You keep telling me that; I don’t like it.” Jisung tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“Aww, don’t be mad,” Minho chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Jisung’s hair. “I’ll tell you once you’re old enough.”

“I’m not a baby.” Jisung pouted. Chan had called him a kid. Hyunjin had called him a baby. And now, Minho was treating him like a child. It was starting to vex him. 

“I know you aren’t, sweetie.” Minho removed the disk from the glass of the desk.

“You still haven’t told me about Chan.”

The blue haired man stopped. “About that,” he inhaled, “I’m not sure there’s much I’m supposed to be telling you.”

“You promised you’ll tell me about Chan.” Jisung’s tone was childishly accusatory.

“I never promised, I just said I’ll see.” Minho buttoned up his black jacket. “Although, Chan is someplace safe, if it consoles you in any way.”

Jisung frowned. He had been expecting more detail, but Minho was being infuriatingly vague about Chan.

Minho must have noticed, because though his eyes were sharp, his voice was soft when he spoke. “Hey, I don’t want to keep this from you, cutie; it’s for safety reasons. There’s always someone watching, always someone listening, you know.”

Jisung glanced at the camera in the corner of the room. It blinked red at him. 

“We’re out of the camera’s view, hyung.”

“I know.” Minho pocketed the disk. “Haven’t you ever noticed how each computer room has two surveillance points on the system but only one camera?”

Jisung sucked in a breath. “The iris scanner,” he whispered. He should have known. His eyes flickered to the black dot at the corner of the monitor. 

“Exactly.”

“So every time we’re here, it sees us?” 

“It does, but you’re a smart boy, aren’t you? You always try your best to delete anything that might give you away.”

Jisung nodded. “I try.”

“Yeah.” Minho cleared the file transfer records before moving towards the door. “Clear the surveillance records for me, won’t you, sweetie? I’ve got to go; I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” Jisung sat in the chair Minho had just vacated. 

“Remember to log out once you’re done.” Minho peered through the window atop the door of the server room, trying to see if the corridor was empty. “And make sure you tell your pretty boy what you think of him.”

“Minho hyung, please.” Jisung groaned.

“Trust me, sweetie, you’ll thank me someday.”

_____

Jisung's wrists strained against the metal cuffs that bound him to the chair. He could feel stale blood grow sticky through his shirt where the almost-healed clots on his back had cracked open when Woojin had dragged him down the corridor. 

The burn on his chest had reduced to a mild sting over the past week. Woojin had been changing the bandage every second day, and it had certainly helped. 

It had almost seemed as though Jisung would finally get to spend a few days free from pain at the facility. 

Now, however, it was clear that it wouldn't be. 

"I thought that after spending eighteen years here, you would be familiar with your morning routine." Woojin's arms are crossed across his chest. "It seems however, that I've been mistaken."

Jisung swallowed. 

"Why didn't you report for your morning roll call, Jisung?" Woojin's voice was as unsettlingly soft as always. 

"I overslept," Jisung mumbled. 

"Why, isn't the morning bell loud enough for you?" 

By most standards, Jisung was a light sleeper. Years of listening for footsteps and voices down the corridor had made turned his sleep fragile. 

Between nightly trips around the facility and meeting outsiders when he wasn't supposed to, the past week hadn't been easy on Jisung's sleep schedule. This morning, he had slept right through the 5 a.m. bell. 

There was the familiar snap of an ampoule opening, and Jisung slackened in the chair.

The needle followed soon enough. It prickled slightly. They had been through this far too many times already. 

"You know we can't send you to live outside unless you're disciplined enough." Woojin felt through the drawers beneath the glass table. 

"I've never done it before; it was just this once." Really, did oversleeping warrant such a harsh punishment? 

"Quiet," Woojin snarled, "you'll speak when you're allowed."

"Yes, sir." Jisung fixed his gaze on the floor. 

"And I don't care if this is the first time this is happening; I still need to ensure you don't ever repeat it." 

Jisung's fingertips had started to tingle by the time Woojin produced a large metal plate from the drawer. It looked a lot like the steel plates they used in the facility mess, but this one had probably never left the laboratory. 

Jisung's eyes widened, taking in the slim metal rod between Woojin's fingers. 

To his relief, though, there was no wire extending from the base of the rod. Woojin wasn't going to brand him. Then how was he planning to punish Jisung? 

The warden rested Jisung's head flat against his shoulder. He then placed the plate over Jisung's one exposed ear. 

Jisung shifted slightly beneath the weight of the plate against his head. It may have looked similar, but it was much heavier than the plates they ate on at the mess.

The plate was pressed uncomfortably hard against Jisung's cheek, and he couldn't see Woojin. 

"I'll teach you to listen well." 

Oh. 

A deafening sound pounded through Jisung's skull as Woojin struck the rod against the edge of the plate. It hurt - the impact wasn't too bad, but the awful metallic ringing was trapped within Jisung's skull, echoing painfully through his head. 

Woojin beat the plate once again, and Jisung was sure his ears began bleeding at the sound. Within a minute, his eyes were stinging with tears. A bruise was probably purpling at his cheekbone where the plate rested. 

"Sir, please," Jisung slurred past his numbing tongue. The magic words - they simultaneously conveyed Jisung's deference and helplessness to Woojin. 

"Please what?" 

"Stop, please stop," Jisung choked against the growing pressure of the plate against his cheek. 

"I'll stop when I'm sure you've learnt your lesson."

"Please, I won't do it again; I'll wake up on time, sir, it hurts," he sobbed from beneath the plate. 

The pressure on his cheek lessened, and Jisung gasped. His head still rang painfully from Woojin's newly devised punishment. 

A fresh pain tingled through him as Woojin struck him open-handedly across the face. 

"I hope you've learnt." Woojin replaced the plate in the drawer. "You don't have very long left; it would do you good to behave yourself for a while." 

_____

"What happened?" Minho frowned at Jisung, noticing the large bruise that covered most of his right cheek. 

Jisung sighed. "I overslept."

Minho appeared confused. "I didn't know oversleeping turns your cheek blue."

"I missed my morning roll call," Jisung explained, gesturing at his cheek. "Woojin have me this for it." 

"Oh." Minho turned back to the screen.

If Jisung had been with Hyunjin instead, he would have received a warm hug to comfort him. This was Minho, though. Despite the casual conversation, Jisung knew the only reason Minho was probably putting up with Jisung was because he had his own agenda to fulfill. 

"What are you working on tonight?" Jisung leaned onto the desk near where Minho was typing. 

"Tonight? There are more files I need to find, sweetie. There's also some systems I need to set up as well, that's all." 

"Hmm." Jisung rested his chin in his hands. "Can I ask you something, hyung?" 

"Of course, you can. I can't promise I'll answer, though."

"Why did you delete my breeding?" 

Minho looked up, and his cat-like eyes blinked 

"Your breeding," he repeated. He had expected Jisung to pester him with yet another question about Chan. 

"Yes, my breeding."

"I don't know how to tell you without giving away to much." Minho exhaled. "It's for your own good."

"What do you mean?" Jisung didn't trust people who claimed to do things for his good. After all, Woojin used those exact words on him every time he ran a knife over Jisung's skin in the name of discipline. 

"I mean, you're coded 163. That isn't a very harmless error code. At least, the government thinks so." He chuckled softly. The light of the display turned his blue hair an equally unusual green. 

"So?" 

"So," Minho moistened his lips, "they lose any incentive to not hurt you too badly once you aren't of any use to them."

"I don't understand," Jisung pouted. 

"You know how breedings work, right? The pairings are designed to produce more genetically desirable individuals. Naturally, the people born out of breedings are assets to society." 

"Why is that important?" 

"Because until your breeding is done, the facility can't afford to hurt you too badly. It's an obligation, you see."

Jisung grimaced. Chan had said something similar, too. 

"But with the breeding cancelled, how am I safe anymore?" 

"About that - you've already been marked for a breeding in the Human Resource Department's servers. The event was on a facility system, and the facility is answerable to the HRD."

"Chan had had a breeding, too."

"Two, in fact. Good for him, he wouldn't have survived long without them." 

"I didn't know about the second one."

"Oh, honey, there are many things about Chan that neither of us knows." Minho fingered the glass desk absently. 

"Clearly," Jisung sighed. "But Minho hyung, why did you delete only my breeding and not anyone else's?" 

"It was a favour."

"For?" 

A characteristically sly smile stretched upon Minho's lips. "You know who it was, sweetie."

"Chan?" Jisung hoped it was Chan. That would mean Chan still cared about him. 

Minho was silent, his infuriatingly smug smile still in place. 

"You're so dramatic, you know?" 

"Oh, honey, I know." Minho yawned. 

Jisung glanced at the monitor. 0138 hours. 

He has been careful to sleep as much as possible in the evening; he didn't want to miss the alarm again tomorrow. 

"Jisung, have you had a telling yet?" 

"Huh, a telling?" 

"Yes, sweetie, you heard me." 

"Aren't tellings only for, you know, normal people?" Jisung had never heard of a telling happen in the facility. 

"You seem normal enough to me." Minho shrugged. 

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

"If the wardens feel one of their charges is ready for reintegration with outside society, they can give them a telling. Anyone who wants to fit into society needs a telling first, or they won't get a job," Minho explained. 

"Really? I just thought kids vanished into the outside world just like that. I didn't know they got a telling." 

"Now you know." 

"I don't think I'll ever get one, though. Woojin hates me." Jisung stared unseeingly at the plastered ceiling. 

"I just guess you'll have to be good, or at least don't let the wardens catch you doing anything you aren't supposed to." Minho exhaled. "You don't have much time, though."

Jisung looked at Minho. "Woojin told me that, too."

"He's right. Three years isn't a very long time."

"Why, what happens in three years?" 

"You'll turn twenty-one, obviously."

"So?" Jisung didn't think there's was anything particularly special about turning twenty-one, apart from the fact that charges over that age got to live in a separate facility.

Minho stared. "Don't you know? You get sent to the clearance unit," he whispered. 

Jisung blinked. "Is that what it's called? I just thought it was a separate quarter for charges older than twenty-one."

Minho shook his head. "It isn't."

"Then what is it?" Jisung felt an odd dread sink his stomach as he waited for Minho's answer. 

This silence was not Minho trying to be dramatic, it was something else, wasn't it? 

"Sweetie, it's exactly what it sounds like. They feel if you haven't been fixed by the time you're twenty-one, you'll never get fixed. So they just, you know, clear the extras." Minho's voice was blunt, but his eyes refused to meet Jisung's. 

Jisung gasped. "You mean, they actually…" 

Minho nodded slowly. 

Jisung felt a cold panic tingle in his fingers. "Hyung," he whispered. 

"Mmm?" 

"I'm scared."

"You should be."

_____

Jisung frowned at the bruise on his cheek through Hyunjin's mirror. It had turned an angry purple against his tan cheek, but that wasn't what was upsetting him. 

He didn't know what really happened in the clearance units, but if Minho was right, he was glad Chan had left. He would have turned twenty-one in October. 

Jisung felt his stomach turn. Every year, he had seen the oldest charges in the dormitory lined up quietly and escorted out of the building at night. In the morning, their beds would be empty with only a flimsy excuse of new accommodation to cover their disappearance. 

Then, he had envied them for getting the chance to move to a different facility. Now, he felt sick at the thought. Each of those boys, he realised, were probably gone forever. 

He snapped the mirror shut. He wished Chan had told him about all of this instead of leaving him alone at the facility. The tears that spilled from his eyes were cold and filled with fear. 

He flicked the lavatory light off before moving back to the dormitory. Later, he would try to find out more about the so - called clearance unit. 

For now, though, he would curl into his lumpy mattress and cry on the shoulder of an imaginary friend while his mind supplied him with the warm embrace he craved. 

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Hyunsung : (  
But don't worry, they get big softness in the next chapter. 
> 
> What do you think? Tell me in the comments, seeing them motivates me to update faster!
> 
> Love,  
-PoA


	8. Caught

“Minho hyung says charges over twenty-one get sent to a clearance unit.”

“Oh, so he’s ‘Minho hyung’ already?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow.

Jisung stared. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I don’t know, it’s just that you’ve barely known him for a week.”

“I like him enough,” Jisung shrugged.

Hyunjin kicked a pebble across the gravel. “How old is he? He sounds pretty young from what I’ve heard from you.”

“He is. I don’t think he could be over three years older than me.” Jisung paused. “His hair - ”

Hyunjin groaned. “I know, his hair is blue, he wears all black, he’s so cool, blah blah blah.” He dug his shoe into the loose soil. “He still hasn’t told you about Chan, though.”

Jisung’s face darkened. “Yeah, he hasn’t. I trust him, though.”

“He still sounds shady to me.”

“Maybe he does, Jinnie, but he deleted my breeding.”

“Be careful,” Hyunjin frowned. “I don’t want you getting into any trouble because of him.”

Jisung laughed. “Really, Jinnie? That’s a bit rich coming from you.”

“Why?” Hyunjin blinked.

“You know who else might get me in trouble?”

“Who?” The older boy was still puzzled.

“You, of course, silly,” Jisung reached out to pat a smooth cheek. “I’d be in an awful mess if anyone found out, and it would be because of you.”

“No,” Hyunjin shook his head. “I’m different.”

“Oh, really?” Jisung smirked, amused. Of course, Hyunjin was special, but he didn’t need to know that yet. “What makes you say that?”

“I won’t put you in danger. I care about you.” Hyunjin’s tone was flat - he was stating a fact.

Jisung blinked. He hadn’t expected that answer. “That - that’s a really sweet thing to say, Jinnie,” Jisung felt the back of his neck warm slightly. He rested his head on the taller boy’s shoulder gingerly, and Hyunjin pulled him close.

The stream gurgled softly through the silence that followed. A thick trail of fireflies fluttered over the water, snaking through the gaps in the trees. Normally, Hyunjin would have taken out his red lamp, but they never needed it in the woods.

Jisung pressed a tentative kiss to Hyunjin’s jaw. “I care about you, too.” He couldn’t explain why, but he felt the need to whisper the words. 

“Really?” Hyunjin was looking at Jisung, his dark eyes soft. 

“Yeah. Really.”

“That’s really nice to know,” Hyunjin chuckled. He held Jisung tighter, and the boy sighed happily. “Jisung,” Hyunjin’s voice was low.

Jisung felt himself shiver despite Hyunjin’s warmth against him. The feeling of Hyunjin’s lips against his skin, the way he murmured his name, his arms secure around his waist - it was starting to make Jisung burn with a longing he knew he would never be able to satisfy.

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

Jisung remained silent, not trusting himself to speak. In the books Chan let him read, lines like this usually signified confessions that helped the protagonist win over his love interest. Unfortunately, though, Jisung did not live in a book. Even if he did, there was no way someone like him would be the protagonist. He exhaled. Hyunjin would always be a friend and a fantasy that would never materialise.

“Look at me, please.” Hyunjin swallowed. His pale skin glowed a faint gold in the feeble light of the fireflies. Maybe Minho was right. Maybe Hyunjin did like him.

Jisung lifted his gaze to Hyunjin’s. He could feel his heart pound against his ribs over the murmur of the stream. “Tell me.”

“I - Are you hungry?”

“What?”

“I asked you if you’re hungry. I’ve got spiced peanuts from the bus stand; I thought you’d like it.” Hyunjin’s tone was strained beneath the tediously false nonchalance.

“Oh.” Jisung kicked himself mentally. Why was he such a fool to raise his expectations to levels he knew didn’t exist within his reality? What had he been thinking? Hell, Hyunjin probably didn’t even like men.

“Jisung?” Hyunjin eyed him expectantly. If Jisung had looked more closely, he would have noticed a light layer of sweat coating Hyunjin’s upper lip. 

Jisung cursed silently before replying. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m hungry.”

He wasn’t.

_____

  


"You absolute fool,” Minho shook his head.

“Excuse me?” Jisung turned in his chair.

“That boy is fucking head over heels in love with you and you can’t see it.” Minho’s hands were on his hips. "You’re really thick, aren’t you, sweetie?”

“He asked me if I was hungry. That scarcely qualifies as a confession of love.” Jisung frowned.

“You don’t understand, honey; at times feelings can’t be expressed in words.” Minho gesticulated wildly.

“Well, then how am I supposed to understand them?” Jisung grumbled. 

“He said he needed to tell you something.”

“He did.”

“And then, he asked you to look at him.”

“Yeah.”

“And when you looked into his eyes, he stuttered, I’m assuming.”

“So?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minho drawled. “He likes you.”

“I don’t think so, hyung.”

Minho clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Jisung, here’s what you need to do the next time you see Hyunjin.” The blue-haired man put an arm over Jisung’s shoulder. “So, first, you say hello. And then - ”

Jisung looked at Minho. “Seriously?”

“Don’t interrupt, cutie, it’s rude.” Minho shushed him. “Yeah, and after you say hello, you tell him you missed him. He’s gonna say he missed you, too.”

“Okay.” 

“And then, you give him a hug. He’ll hug you back.”

“Mmm.”

“When he hugs you, you’re going to pat his cheek and say, ‘Hyunjin, you’ve got something on your face.’”

Jisung couldn’t tell what Minho was trying to achieve through this exercise. Then, again, Jisung never knew what Minho was trying to achieve in general.

“He will turn to look at you, and then he’ll wipe his cheek. Once he asks you if it’s gone, you say, ‘no, it’s still there.’ Once this cycle repeats more than twice, you’re going to say, ‘Hyunjin, let me wipe it off.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. 

“Once he agrees, you must take his face in your hands and kiss him.”

“What!?” Jisung spluttered. 

“Which part did you not understand?”

Jisung glared at Minho. The man blinked, and Jisung realised that Minho had been entirely serious about everything he had said. “Minho, I’m never doing that.”

“Why not?”

Jisung shook his head and pushed Minho’s arm off his shoulder. “Weren’t you supposed to tell me more about the clearance unit tonight?”

“I’m not changing the topic so easily, honey.”

Jisung groaned. “Minho hyung, please, I can’t talk about this anymore.”

“Very well, then, let’s move on.” Minho was turned to the screen, but Jisung was sure he was probably smirking.

  


_____

  
  


The smell of damp concrete invaded Jisung’s nostrils as he ran his duster through the cobwebs. A wet trail of green seepage had formed where the walls met the ceiling. Jisung made a mental note to tell Woojin about it.

Maintenance days were slightly better than labour days. That, however, held true only as long as you weren’t assigned to the lavatories. Jisung wrinkled his nose at the thought. Duty at the lavatories was awful. Thankfully, though, it was reserved for new charges at the facility, and Jisung had managed to escape his due of lavatory duty entirely.

Jisung reached up to brush at the tiny ventilator. The sky outside was grey as always, but Jisung closed his eyes and let the dull sunlight fall upon his face for a minute. 

“Get down.”

Jisung almost fell off the ladder, startled. He twisted slowly to look at Woojin. 

“I’m not done yet, sir.”

Woojin seemed irritated. “How much longer?” He looked up at Jisung. Jisung may have been short, but the ladder forced the warden to look up at him instead of staring down.

“I’ve still got two more rooms to finish.” Jisung rested a hand against the concrete, steadying himself on the wobbly ladder.

“I don’t care; get down.” 

Jisung threw his duster to the floor before descending carefully. He looked at Woojin uncertainly. The warden’s expression was unreadable as always. 

He followed Woojin through the corridors of the facility, confused. What had he done wrong this time?

They stopped at the door to the tablet archives. Woojin placed his palm against the scanner and the light blinked green. The steel doors clicked open. 

Jisung watched as Woojin bolted the door shut behind them. They moved past the shelves and the large display which Chan would let Jisung use at times, past the row of desks along the wall until they reached the tinted glass that demarcated the restricted section of the archives.

Woojin turned to Jisung. “I know you know the passcode.”

Jisung swallowed.

“Don’t lie.”

“Yes, sir.” Jisung fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt. What did Woojin want?

“Open it,” Woojin commanded, stepping out of the iris scanner’s view.

Jisung nodded wordlessly. He placed a palm over the iris scanner and tapped at the system to manually enter the access code. 

This was wrong. Jisung’s throat went dry as he typed the numbers into the panel. Woojin wasn’t supposed to access the restricted section, hell, he wasn’t supposed to be here either. His eyes flickered to the camera at the corner of the room.

“Sir,” Jisung whispered. “The cameras - may I delete the footage once we’re done?”

Woojin’s eyes grew mildly alarmed as he turned to look at the camera. “Yes,” he nodded. “You may.”

Jisung exhaled. The light flickered green, and Woojin slid the partition open. Jisung swayed uncertainly, unsure whether to follow or not.

“Tell me if anyone comes.” The glass slid back shut, locking Jisung outside the restricted section. 

It was baffling. What did Woojin need from the restricted section? What could drive Woojin, the quintessentially harsh disciplinarian to go against the very rules he enforced upon others?

Jisung watched as Woojin moved about the shelves behind the tinted glass. Why was Woojin doing this? He wiped his upper lip and glanced at the camera once more. It blinked green back at him. The door was still secured shut behind him. 

It wasn’t long before Woojin emerged from the restricted area. He rubbed the glass partition with his handkerchief, presumably to erase any fingerprints he may have left there. His other hand clutched a small, ordinary-looking disk.

“Let’s go.”

Jisung nodded quietly. 

Their footsteps were sharp against the white concrete floor of the empty corridors, just like the silence that lay between them. Woojin steered them to the server room, letting the scanner examine his iris while Jisung stayed safely out of sight. 

“The camera,” he started. “Do you know how to access editing controls to surveillance footage as well?”

Jisung looked up. Woojin’s tone was oddly conversational. The lightness in his voice as forced as usual, but the smug threat that hung behind it was missing. He watched as Woojin moistened his mouth.

If Jisung wasn’t so afraid of Woojin he would have laughed. Woojin was nervous. Good. It was nice to see the warden afraid for a change.

“Yes, sir.” He sat before the panel, just as he had done several times before. He could hear Woojin breathe shallowly within the cold silence of the room; he could feel Woojin’s gaze over his shoulder as he made his way through the multilayered security systems.

Part of him wanted to shift so Woojin couldn’t see what he was doing. He didn’t want Woojin to know any of the passcodes he was using, or the loopholes he had found. It felt good to have him so anxious, so dependent on Jisung.

Then again, it was Woojin. No matter what happened, Jisung was terrified of him. That was why Jisung hadn’t complained when Woojin had asked him to break into the restricted section.

Should he report Woojin? 

Jisung toyed with the idea as he deleted the clips of Woojin and him entering the archives one by one. How wonderful it would be to see the warden helpless, being punished just as he had punished Jisung.

No, that wouldn’t be. There was no way Jisung could tell on Woojin without exposing himself. Besides, Woojin’s reputation among the other staff of the facility would save him. Jisung could scarcely say the same about himself, though.

  


“Are you done?” Woojin asked.

“Almost, sir.”

Woojin clicked his tongue. “I’ve got a meeting to attend in five minutes; I don’t have time for your delinquent antics.”

What a hypocrite. If Jisung hated Woojin before, he absolutely loathed him now. He would have loved to remind Woojin that he was actually saving both of them right now, but he didn’t.

He opened a smaller console at the bottom of the screen, one that was hidden to Woojin by his body. If Woojin had picked a book off the restricted shelves, it would surely have showed up on the records.

He scrolled through as fast as possible, trying to avoid any suspicion on Woojin’s part. 

Jisung’s eyes widened as he read the title of the last book on the list. 

“Quick,” Woojin said sternly, and Jisung closed both consoles. 

“I’m done.” Jisung walked towards the door, trying his best to stay out of the camera’s sight. 

“Good.”

The heavy door of the server room clicked shut behind them.

“Jisung?” Woojin called as the boy made his way towards the dormitory.

Jisung turned. “Yes, sir?”

Woojin’s eyes tightened as he spoke. “Thank you.”

_____

  


Should he warn Woojin?

Jisung lay in bed, thinking. The archive records still bore the name of the book Woojin had copied onto the disk. Even the file transfer details were there. 

Jisung hadn’t deleted any of it. 

His thoughts went back to the tablet Woojin had copied onto the disk. ‘Lost Works of the Red Wave.’ It was the same book Chan had wanted him to read, wasn’t it?

If he didn’t warn Woojin or delete the records himself, the warden was bound to be found out sooner or later.

He should warn Woojin.

He adjusted his blanket over his body, exposing the fast-healing burn on his chest slightly. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed to sting lightly.

Jisung turned over on his lumpy mattress.

No, he would not tell Woojin. 

_____

  


“Why do you think he would want that book?” 

Minho scratched at his chin in an exaggerated display of thoughtfulness.. If Minho had a beard, Jisung was sure he would have stroked it. 

“Maybe he’s developed a sudden interest in forbidden literature?” 

Jisung snorted. “Seriously, Minho? I’ve told you about Woojin; he’s far too uptight for anything of that sort.”

“I know what Woojin is like, sweetie. He deserves more credit than that.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Yeah, what do you know of him? He’s been my warden for two years no; do you really think I don’t know what he’s like?”

Minho shook his head. “You don’t know him, Jisung; you’re just afraid of him. You can’t perceive his personality beyond your fear of him.”

“Really? What do you know about him that I don’t? Woojin is a monster.” Jisung laughed humourlessly. “And a hypocrite,” he added, recalling the day’s events.

“He’s handsome,” Minho shrugged.

Jisung gaped. “You’re impossible.”

“Can’t help it, honey.” He turned to look at Jisung. “I’m deleting his archive records.”

“Why?” Jisung frowned. “I wanna see him get in trouble.”

“Sadist,” Minho smirked. “Don’t you see, if Woojin gets in trouble, he’ll probably out you, too. It’s for your own good.”

“If you really cared about me, you would tell me about Chan,” Jisung muttered. “Or, you would be worried about my being sent to the clearance unit.”

“Hmm, I told you already - we’re working on it.” Minho’s fingers were still busy at the desk.

“We?” Jisung blinked.

“Chan and I, of course,” Minho clarified.

“Oh.” Jisung hated it when Minho spoke this way, dropping hints about Chan every now and then, but never actually letting him know anything worthwhile.

“I won’t be over tomorrow; there’s something else I’ll be working on,” Minho exhaled. “There’s something I need you to do for me, sweetie.”

“What is it?”

_____

  


Jisung trudged through the woods, eyes on the map Minho had given him. Jisung wasn’t even sure he was holding the map right anymore. From where he was standing, all the trees looked the same. 

The stream was the only landmark Jisung knew in the woods apart from the fence, and he was far away from both of them.

In an hour, the cicadas would commence their nightly orchestra, and Woojin would line up the charges for their nightly roll call. Jisung needed to get back in time. 

First, though, he had to find the hidden transmission line Minho had been talking about. 

Minho’s instructions had been clear - find the cable and cut it. 

The transmission cables were probably used for communication by whatever organisation Minho was part of, and Jisung’s best guess was that it had been compromised.

Cutting it couldn’t be much of a problem, but first, Jisung needed to find one of the points where it resurfaced above the soil.

Jisung squinted at the map. The rock pile to his left seemed to be marked on the map. If he was reading it right, there should be an access point a little beyond the rocks.

He looked around, scanning his surroundings. He could see a sliver of the highway from where he was standing. The boundary was probably close. 

Jisung skirted past a rotten stump before crouching at the base of a particularly tall pine tree. Sure enough, there was a thick black cable embedded in the soil beneath the dead pine needles that littered the ground.

He was about to produce the pliers that Minho had given him when a sharp pain shot through his side. 

Jisung looked down to see a red stain blossoming through the white of his uniform.

Muted footsteps sounded between the trees, muffled by the soft soil and fallen leaves. Jisung clutched at the wound. 

Guards. How could he have forgotten? Minho had warned him about them. Hell, he had been there in the warden’s quarters when the supervisor had called for armed security at the fences.

Jisung felt faint. The pain wasn’t the worst he had faced - it was just a pellet wound. He stood paralysed with fear; it felt as though his body wouldn’t even let him fall to the ground. What would they do once they took him back to the facility? 

The footsteps drew closer. A voice yelled across the silence. “I told you, there’s a punk in the woods; we got him in the side.”

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, angels, I know I've been dead forever, but I'm back. Sorry for the late update, but I just really hated my writing.
> 
> Where do you think the plot is going? Tell me in the comments <3  
Also, uhmm, there's going to be a Hyunsung moment next chapter. How many of you want smut? If there are enough comments in favour, I'll churn out something smutty, or else, we'll have a wholesome dose of the fluff we deserve.
> 
> Thank you for sticking around :,)  
You guys motivate me to write. If you've got time please leave me a comment; it really means a lot <3
> 
> -PoA


	9. Care

When Jisung woke up, he wasn’t in his dormitory. The ceiling above was patterned with mold that traced great streaks across the white cement. His eyes followed the seepage to a corner where mossy green water dripped along the wall steadily. A strong smell of iodoform pervaded the dampness of the room.

Jisung shifted on the bed. It wasn’t his own - no, this mattress wasn’t as lumpy, but the linen made him itch all over. The pellet wound on his side still stung, and he could feel pus collect beneath the crude bandage over it. 

His back and knees were still sore from the kicks and blows he had received, and he could barely feel the fingers on his left hand through the pain. He tried wiggling them slightly. They moved just fine despite the stiff bandages around them.

Thank goodness, Jisung was worried that the guards might have broken a few bones when they stepped on his hand after shooting at him.

Elsewhere in the room, voices bickered angrily. 

”I know, but that still doesn’t warrant the use of pellets. This is only the first time the boy has done anything of this sort, a taser or a shock pulse would have been enough.” Woojin sounded agitated.

“I don’t see what I did wrong,” someone argued. “For all you know, the bastard might have been trying to escape. And in any case, what he did was wrong.”

“Yes but deciding his punishment is up to me, not you. I’m his warden.”

The man sniggered. “Ah, nice job you’ve done of it, I see. If you were any good, he wouldn’t have pulled a stunt like that to begin with.”

Jisung could imagine Woojin gritting his teeth. “Using pellets on an unarmed charge without direct orders is a violation of your code of conduct.”

“Seriously, Woojin? You heard the supervisor when he told us to shoot any shits who do anything funny. I’m sure we still have that on tape.”

A medic stopped at Jisung’s bed, He pressed two fingers against Jisung’s wrist and checked his temperature before moving on to the next bed.

“You know that checking his pulse is unnecessary right now, don’t you?” Woojin called, probably to the medic. “If you actually care about keeping him safe, you should check his bandages.”

“Stay in your lane, Woojin,” the medic snapped. “I don’t need your advice.”

“You probably didn’t even bother to check if the pellet has fragmented inside of him. You haven’t sterilised the bandages before taping them on.” Woojin frowned. “I don’t want my charge developing sepsis because of your negligence.”

“I’m the medic here, and I don’t have time for a quack who can’t mind his charges properly in the first place.” The medic’s tone bore a cold venom. “That runaway, Chan - he was a charge of yours, too, wasn’t he?”

A tense silence filled the hospital wing, punctuated by the medic’s footsteps against the white tile floor as he moved from bed to bed. “I think he’s awake; you can talk to him now.”

“Right.” Woojin sat on the stool next to Jisung’s bed.

Jisung tried pushing himself up on his elbows so he could sit straight in the warden’s presence. It didn’t work, it hurt instead.

“Don’t bother,” Woojin’s tone was dismissive.

Jisung strained to look at Woojin from the bed. The awkward angle would make his neck sore within a few minutes, and he knew it.

“You know what you did.” 

Jisung nodded, avoiding Woojin’s gaze. He didn’t know what to say that would make his situation any better. With Woojin, anything said almost invariably worsened the course of events.

“Why were you in the woods this afternoon?” Woojin’s voice was deceptively soft.

“I felt like a walk,” Jisung swallowed, reciting his memorised excuse.

Woojin’s mouth tightened. “A walk,” he repeated frostily. “Do you realise how ridiculous you sound?”

“This isn’t the first time I’m doing something like this.” Jisung mumbled.

“You shouldn’t be,” Woojin hissed. “Why are you so problematic?”

“I’m sorry,” Jisung lowered his eyes.

“No, you aren’t, and you know it.” A blunt ringing spread through his skull as Woojin struck him. “Brat.”

Jisung gasped, squeezing his eyes shut around the pain. There really wasn’t anything he could say in his defence; Woojin was right. His apologies were never anything more than perfunctory.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Woojin eyed Jisung’s blanket-covered torso where the pellet had hit him.

“Yes, sir.” The pellet wound stung deep in his flesh underneath the flimsy dressing. The only thing distracting Jisung was more pain - the soreness in his back, the pain in his fingers, and now, the aftereffects of Woojin’s blow. That, along with the terrible case of nerves that Woojin’s presence gave him.

“You deserve it. You knew it was against the rules.”

“Yes, sir,” Jisung whispered. “I deserve it.” 

“I’ll set you straight once you get better a bit. You'll get me fired if you go on this way.” Woojin’s voice bore an angry undertone. 

Woojin leant into Jisung slightly and gripped his injured hand. He squeezed the bandaged fingers painfully, and Jisung whimpered into the mattress. “Sir, please.” 

“If you try anything funny again, I swear I’ll destroy you,” Woojin spat.

Jisung couldn’t help the tears that began to overflow at the corners of his eyes as Woojin tightened his grip on his injured hand.

Woojin wasn’t lying.

_____

  
  


“I’m sorry.”

Jisung glared. His throat was still burning from the odd gas Woojin had made him inhale that evening, a new addition to the list of inflictions that already plagued him. 

“They shot me, and then they fucking stepped on my hand and kicked me around before dragging me back to the building. And then, Woojin starts his own drama about duty and God and how I’m an ungrateful bastard and forces mustard gas up my airways.” 

Minho avoided Jisung’s gaze.

“Sorry doesn’t quite cut it.” Jisung crossed his arms across his chest.

“I know.” Minho glanced at Jisung’s bandaged hand, eyes heavy with guilt. “I should have cut those lines myself.”

“I’ve vomited twice today. I’ve got blisters in my throat; they burn when I swallow.”

“Jisung,” Minho started, wiping his upper lip. “I didn’t know it would happen.”

Jisung looked looked at Minho. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less, hyung.” His voice trembled as he spoke, and he brought up his good hand to swipe at the tears that stung his eyes.

It wasn’t fair at all - his side still hurt awfully, and his left hand was still sore. His back, thankfully, had recovered enough for him to sit up straight and walk around. He couldn’t stop himself from sobbing quietly. Each sob scorched agony down his burnt throat, and he gasped painfully.

Minho placed an awkward hand on Jisung’s back. He had never been great at comforting people, and the guilt that he felt this time didn’t make it any easier.

“Jisung, I can’t say I understand how much it hurts, but I feel really bad about this, you know.” He swallowed. 

“I don’t even know why I came to meet you tonight, I should probably just report you and be done with this,” Jisung mumbled through his tears. He knew it was a lie, though. There was no way he could report Minho without making things worse for himself.

“Yeah,” Minho bowed his head. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He quivered silently and swiped at his face.

Minho was crying, perhaps from the guilt. Good. 

“What were those cables, anyways?” 

“Oh, those.” Minho sat up straighter in his chair. “Power cables. We use them to steal off the grid.”

Jisung assumed ‘we’ referred to whatever group Minho was a part of. 

“Why would you cut them, then?”

“Because, sweetie, the secret police might be trailing them to find our location. They’ve changed the power transmission frequency thrice in the past two months - they’re probably looking for anomalies in the distribution.” Minho paused. “I don’t understand any of it really well, but I know it can be used to track us. That’s bad enough.”

“What will you do about it now?” 

Minho shrugged. “We’ll probably send someone else to do the cutting. Chan thought it’d be a good idea to let you do it because you’re familiar with the woods and all.”

So, it had been Chan’s idea. Jisung laughed mirthlessly. His lungs strained with the action. “Well, look how that turned out.” 

“Yeah, he was really upset when I told him what happened.” 

Jisung yawned. “God, it’s late.” He glanced at the time. 0208 hours.

“There’s no God around here, sweetie.” Minho’s tone was even.

“Why, do you think God doesn’t exist, too?”

“Oh, no.” Minho laughed. There was something eerie about the sound. “God does exist, and he’s everywhere, and he sees all and knows all. Yeah, all of that shit.”

“How do you know it’s a ‘he’?” 

“There’s no way the government would let a woman get so powerful, honey.” Minho yawned through his words.

Jisung blinked. “Didn’t God create the government?”

Minho snorted. “No.”

“Nonsense. Why do they say that in our books, then?”

“Because, cutie, that’s what the government wants you to believe, don’t you see?”

“But you said God exists and knows all and - “

“That’s different.” Minho stretched. His cat-like eyes narrowed as they gazed upon Jisung. “You wanna know what God really is, honey?”

Jisung nodded.

“You see that camera over there?” Minho pointed at the camera in the corner of the server room. It blinked green at them. “That’s one of his eyes.”

“What do you mean?” Jisung was confused. None of what Minho said seemed to make sense. 

Minho sighed. “Jisung, there is no God in the sense we believe him to be. All the metaphysical crap they make you recite every morning is bullshit.” He chewed on his bottom lip uncertainly. “Everything that God knows about you, it’s just the data the government collects about you. And the government, well, it knows almost everything about you. It watches where you go and whom you meet, the things you talk about...”

Jisung frowned.

There was a soft beep, and Minho glanced at the screen. “I think you should go now.” It was an abrupt instruction.

“Why? You still haven’t explained to me - “

“Sweetie, your warden just picked his book from the archives - he’ll be here in a minute to clear the footage, I’m telling you.”

“Oh.” Jisung’s mouth went dry. He was in the worst possible location for yet another chance meeting with Woojin. “I’ll leave, then.” He moved towards the door.

“It’s rather hypocritical of him, though, don’t you think, hyung?”

“What?” Minho looked away from the screen. 

“Woojin says fancy things about discipline and duty, but he’s just as rotten on the inside.” 

“He’s got a job to keep, honey.” Minho frowned. “I did a lot of crappy stuff while I was working.”

“Which is the crappy part with Woojin - snooping about the archives, or the things he does to me?”

Minho shrugged. “Take your pick.”

The door clicked open softly beneath Jisung’s fingers. He stopped, turning to look at Minho. “Shouldn’t you leave, too?”

‘There’s some things I need to finish.” Minho tapped at the display.

Jisung hesitated. Something wasn’t quite right. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” Minho smiled.

Jisung swallowed and swung the door open. It felt odd leaving Minho in the server room when Woojin could walk in any time.

But then again, he supposed, Minho could take care of himself. 

Couldn’t he?

_____

  
  


Jisung sat heavily on the concrete skirting the depot. His foot was aching, undoubtedly because of the pebble he had slipped into his shoe when they started from the facility. 

“I hate bodycams,” he muttered.

“I hate it when pebbles get in my shoes.” Hyunjin watched as Jisung shook the stone out of his shoe.

Jisung looked up at Hyunjin. “I put it there. It forces me to limp so cameras won’t be able to recognise my gait.”

“That’s clever.”

The light from the streetlamps outside spilled into the empty bus depot. Jisung sweated beneath Hyunjin’s thick pullover. The facility was colder than the city, somehow. Perhaps it was because of the woods that surrounded it. 

“Is this where you work?” Jisung looked around at the bare cement compound.

“Not exactly. I report here in the morning, and the bus drops me off here at night. Route 335E.”

“Ah, you’re a ticket collector, aren’t you?”

Hyunjin’s sighed. “Yeah.”

“Hey, it can’t be that bad - you get Tuesdays off.”

“That’s not it, Jisung.” Hyunjin shook his head. “I know this is going to sound cheesy, but a salary is really a bribe they pay you to forget your dreams, you know.”

“That’s enough for today, dreamer boy,” Jisung laughed. “There’s other things I want to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Hyunjin stretched. Jisung hated it when Hyunjin stretched - his shoulders would strain, his back would arch, and his shirt would ride up slightly to reveal the smallest sliver of pale skin.

Yeah, Jisung hated it.

“Why didn’t you want to talk in the woods, though?” Hyunjin’s shoes scratched patterns onto the dusty concrete ground. 

“About that,” Jisung breathed. 

He stared at the charging docks at the depot unseeingly. They were empty; the buses that had occupied them were probably on the night round. Jisung glanced around uneasily, looking for cameras, microphones, anything, really. He couldn’t shake off the awful nervousness that tingled through him, the constant fear that someone was watching, waiting to punish him.

“The woods aren’t safe anymore. At least, not before dark.” 

“We can meet at night.”

“No, we can’t.”

Hyunjin looked hurt. “Why not? Are you afraid we’ll be caught?”

Jisung nodded quietly. 

“We’ll stick to the stream. You don’t even have to come all the way to the fence, I’ll come inside the woods next week onwards.”

“Jinnie, it’s a lot worse than you think. There are armed guards patrolling.” 

“So? I don’t care.” Hyunjin crossed his arms across his chest.

“Why don’t you? You should be worried.” Jisung felt annoyed.

“They’re a bunch of slow men with toy guns.”

Jisung flared. “Is this a joke to you? One of those ‘toy guns’ fucking ripped a hole through my gut last week.” He shook his head. “I don’t care if you have no regard for our safety, but I really want to stay safe, Hyunjin.”

“Jisung, it isn't’ like -”

“No! I was in the woods last week and a guard got me in the side. They kicked me about and stepped on my hand, Jinnie.” Jisung raised his bandaged hand. “And when Woojin found out - do you know what he did? He gassed me.” Jisung’s voice trailed into a sob. “You don’t know how badly it hurt.”

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin gulped. “I didn’t think something like that would have happened.”

Jisung said nothing. Fresh tears broke from his eyes, and he sobbed into the sleeve of his pullover.

“Jisung.” Hyunjin patted at Jisung’s arm tentatively. “I - I wouldn’t have said that if I had known, really.”

Jisung curled upon himself. The pellet wound stung when he bent, and his throat burnt with the force of his sobs. “I just needed you to listen; can’t you do that for me?”

“I didn’t mean it, Jisung, please.” Hyunjin ran a worried hand through his hair. “Don’t cry; it makes me sad.” Jisung trembled slightly, and Hyunjin held him.

“I wouldn’t have cried if it weren’t for you.” Jisung sulked through his tears. Nevertheless, he put his arms around Hyunjin, letting the older boy pull him closer. Hyunjin let his hand trail, rubbing small circles into Jisung’s back. 

“Hey,” Hyunjin whispered. “Where did that pellet get you?”

“Here,” Jisung gestured to his side. 

Hyunjin rolled up the pullover and untucked Jisung’s shirt. 

“Ow” Jisung mumbled, drying his face on Hyunjin’s shirt.

“Sorry.” Hyunjin fumbled with Jisung’s shirt, careful not to let the rough fabric scrape against Jisung’s skin.

Hyunjin sucked in a breath. “Jisung,” he whispered, eyes wide in horror as he took in the wound. “Why isn’t it bandaged?”

“The hospital wing is out of sterilsed bandages, so they were reusing the same gauze for the dressing.” Jisung shrugged. “Woojin removed it once it started gathering pus; he said it was better to let it air than to keep the pus in.”

“Well, he’s right, but this is awful.” Hyunjin’s fingertips skimmed over the skin around the inflamed flesh. “It must have hurt like hell.”

“It did.” Jisung rested his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Woojin said it’ll be fine in another week.”

“I hope so.” Hyunjin let the fabric fall back over Jisung’s torso. 

“Yeah.”

“Why did they use pellet guns on a charge? The booklet says pellets are only for intruders.”

“I don’t know. It isn’t like they didn’t know who I was, either. One of them screamed about finding a punk in the woods; they knew I was an inmate at the facility.”

“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin sighed. He tucked his chin over Jisung’s forehead, and the boy leaned into his touch. “It’s ghastly.”

“Mmm,” Jisung shifted in Hyunjin’s arms. “Hold me tighter.”

Hyunjin complied. 

It felt good to be held this way by Hyunjin again - Hyunjin was warm and safe and everything Jisung needed right now.

“How’s your throat? Mustard gas does terrible things to respiratory tissue.”

“I figured out.” Jisung laughed humourlessly. Laughing didn’t hurt, but it made him burst into a violent bout of dry coughing. The dusty air of the depot only made it worse, with the fine smoke that hung about the city irritating his airways further.

When it passed, Jisung could taste blood as it flowed down his blistered throat.

“Jisung, this is serious. Has he taken you to the hospital wing?”

Jisung shook his head. “It’s alright, I’m likelier to develop some new infection in the hospital wing than anywhere else in the facility.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped. “Jisung, an overdose could have killed you.”

“I’m fine, Jinnie.” Jisung insisted.

“How long did he expose you?”

“I don’t know, five bouts of two seconds each?”

Hyunjin sighed in relief. “That shouldn’t be too bad. I hope the concentration wasn’t too high.”

“Hey, I’m still alive.” Jisung chuckled. "How bad can it be?"

“This isn't funny,” Hyunjin snapped. It was odd, repeating the same words Jisung had said to him earlier. “I wish you would take yourself a bit more seriously. Mustard gas takes around four to five weeks to kill, and I don’t want to turn up at the facility one night and realize you’re never gonna come again.”

Jisung shrank back. Hyunjin was shaking.

“I care, too, you know. I don’t want to see you hurting, because it makes me feel so fucking bad, Jisung.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I meet you every week, and you always show up with some new bruise or scar, and it’s so worrying. I hate it.”

Jisung averted his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Do you know how dreadful I’d feel if anything happened to you? Do you know how I feel when something does happen to you, Jisung?” Hyunjin’s mouth tightened slightly.

A light drizzle began to fall, quickly turning into a strong downpour while releasing the smell of damp concrete into the air. 

“Let’s go inside.” Hyunjin tugged Jisung by the hand.

“No, I wanna get wet, please.” 

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“Jinnie, please.”

“Jisung, I already told you, you might catch a -”

Jisung pulled him back onto the skirting roughly, and Hyunjin gasped. “I said I want to get wet, Jinnie.” He looked up at Hyunjin. “And I asked you nicely, too.”

Hyunjin stared back at him in surprise, mouth parted slightly. “Alright, I guess.”

“You’re the best,” Jisung giggled. He laced his fingers through Hyunjin’s.

“I’m glad you think so.” 

The rain felt nice against his skin. The water felt slightly itchy, perhaps because of the pollution that hung about the city, but at least it was cool. It soaked through the sweater Jisung was wearing, plastering the fabric to his skin.

“I like the rain,” Jisung murmured absently.

“Me too.”

The thin fabric of Hyunjin’s shirt had turned transparent, just like the legs of Jisung’s trousers. His black hair was plastered to his forehead, and he made no effort to push it away. Jisung’s eyes followed a water drop as it glistened on Hyunjin's full lips before sliding down his neck and pooling at his clavicle beside the silver chain he always wore.

Jisung raised his good hand to fiddle with the chain. It felt cold beneath his fingers. 

“Jisung.”

“Sorry.” Jisung dropped the chain quickly. What had he been thinking?

“No, it’s fine, really,” Hyunjin chuckled, and Jisung looked at him.

Their gazes locked. Something changed in Hyunjin's eyes.

Jisung’s mouth went dry. Hyunjin's eyes had always been dark and warm, but now they held something else that smouldered through Jisung.

His gaze flickered briefly to Jisung's mouth, and Jisung realised that Hyunjin knew; he had always known, there was no point trying to deny or conceal it anymore. Jisung’s entire being tingled in anticipation, he could barely think in coherent sentences anymore and his pulse thrummed violently, but he knew what was coming. 

He hoped to whatever God there was that his intuition wouldn’t fail him this time, not when Hyunjin was so close, leaning into him ever so slightly, not when - 

They kissed.

Jisung quivered hotly beneath Hyunjin’s touch. Hyunjin’s arms were firm around him, but the lips that kissed him were devastatingly gentle against his own. 

The rain continued to pour around them, but suddenly, it wasn’t enough anymore; Jisung was burning up all over.

“Hyunjin,” he gasped. 

“Yeah?” Hyunjin cupped Jisung's face in warm hands, and the boy's breath stuttered.

“Kiss me again, please.”

  
  


_____

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyunsung gay
> 
> The next chapter might be the last before I turn this work into a series. And, there won't be any smut until the next work Ó╭╮Ò Sorry anyone who was looking forward to it.
> 
> Tell me what you think; if you made it this far, you'll probably know I'm a slut for comments, so p l e a s e  
Thank you for sticking with this shit, mwah!
> 
> P.S. mustard gas (bis (2-chloroethyl) sulphide) is highly poisonous; DO NOT INHALE. Symptoms don't normally show until 4-5 hours unless the concentration is high. Most victims get away with a rash/burn.
> 
> <3<3  
-PoA


	10. Code

“Where were you last night?”

“Outside.”

Minho turned in his chair. “With Hyunjin?”

Jisung nodded. Tuesdays were for Hyunjin.

“So, where did he take you this time?”

“The bus depot.” Jisung shivered in the cold of the server room. He bit back a cough that was threatening to rip through his burnt throat.

“Oh, does he work there?” Minho was facing Jisung fully now, his back to the screen.

Once again, Jisung nodded. “He’s a ticket collector.”

“Which route is he on?”

“335E; the night shift”

“I used to take that bus to work every morning.” Minho’s eyes grew distant. “And then, I stopped working.”

“What did you do for a job, hyung?” Jisung couldn’t imagine Minho sitting at a desk for eight hours a day quietly, or standing at a crowded bus stop, or waiting for his paymail. It was simply wrong in a manner Jisung couldn’t explain.

“I coded.” Minho gestured at the display behind him. “Government projects - large team, large budget, no results.”

“Why does the government need coders?” Jisung blinked.

“Ah, that’s something for after you tell me about your date with your pretty boy, sweetie.”

Jisung flushed. “It wasn’t a date.” 

“Nonsense, honey.” Minho shook his head dismissively. “Now, spill.”

“It wasn’t anything special,” Jisung insisted, but Minho wasn’t having any of it. “Alright, I’ll tell you.”

Minho leant in eagerly, and Jisung felt his face grow warm. “We kissed,” he mumbled. His thoughts strayed to the calloused fingers that had tipped his chin to guide him deeper into the kiss that Hyunjin’s plush mouth worked into his lips. It had felt far too pleasurable to be real.

Minho smiled smugly. “Knew it.”

“Yeah, that’s all.” Jisung’s shoulders slumped.

“So, do you have any plans for next week?” Minho’s tone was exaggeratedly conversational.

Jisung blinked. “I mean, he’s gonna pick me up from here, but that’s all.”

“Ah, a surprise.” Minho smiled to himself. “How romantic.”

“Minho, no.” Jisung buried his face in his palms, groaning. 

“Don’t worry, sweetie; I’m just -” He paused, frowning at the screen. “Woojin is being problematic again,” Minho frowned. 

“Is he coming?” Jisung felt oddly alert all of a sudden.

Minho shook his head. “No, but he’s been using the system at the archives to copy books. It took me an hour to delete it all yesterday.”

“Why do you bother?” Jisung was confused.

“Because, honey, too much activity in any particular genre of tablets sends an alert about unusual activity to the management. We don’t want that happening now, do we?”

Jisung shrugged. “I don’t mind. I won’t miss him anyways.”

Minho clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Jisungie,” he drawled, “if anything does happen to Woojin, you’ll be placed under the supervisor until they find someone to fill in for him. Would you like that?”

“No,” Jisung shuddered, remembering the supervisor, “definitely not.”

“Exactly.” Minho turned back to the screen.

Jisung watched as he typed into the glass desk. Minho wasn’t a particularly fast typist, but the words he typed probably did the magic. Jisung had always envisioned coders as hunchbacked men crouched over archaic systems typing at insane speeds, but Minho wasn’t any of that.

“About Woojin - did he do anything right now?” Jisung peeped over Minho’s shoulder at the console blinking on the screen.

“Yeah. A restricted tablet checked at the system in Computer Room 12. I’m guessing that’s him.” He shook a blue strand out of his eyes even as another command opened a window showing surveillance footage from Computer Room 12.

Jisung recognised Woojin’s figure clad in his black wardens’ uniform stoop by a dim screen.His back was to the camera, but there was no way Jiaung couldn’t have identified him. “Yeah, that’s him.”

Minho tapped at the desk some more, and the footage was replaced by static.

“It’s gone,” Jisung frowned.

“I disabled the camera.”

“Oh.” Jisung shifted uneasily. “Can’t we watch him until he gets back to the wardens’ quarters and then delete the footage?” 

Minho paused. “That makes sense.” 

Jisung watched nervously as Woojin climbed up a flight of stairs before turning left onto an unlit corridor. This was bad; any situation with Woojin was bad.

“Minho?” 

“Mmm, cutie?”

“You shouldn’t have disabled the camera.” Jisung picked anxiously at his sleeve. “He’s going to come here to delete the footage soon, and then it’ll be obvious that someone was here to disable the camera.”

Minho’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “He won’t notice anything.”

“How do you know? He’s Woojin.” 

“Exactly. He’s Woojin. He won’t notice.” 

“You don’t know him, hyung.” Jisung’s voice was low. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.” He swallowed around the sting in his throat.

“Jisung,” Minho huffed, “trust me.”

“Yeah, look where that got me last time.” Jisung laughed humourlessly. It turned into an extended bout of coughing, and Minho patted his back gently. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Jisung sniffed. He wasn’t. His throat tasted mildly of blood, and he hoped Hyunjin hadn’t been serious when he had said that mustard gas could kill.

“Take care, sweetie; I don’t want to see anything too bad happen to you.” Minho reached out to stroke his hair. Did he mean it? Probably.

“I’ll be fine.” Jisung pushed Minho’s hand away. 

Minho’s face was unreadable as he peered at Jisung from behind blue hair. “You can leave if you’re worried about Woojin coming here.”

“Yeah.” Jisung stood up abruptly. “I think I’ll go.”

The door clicked shut as he stepped onto the dark corridor, and he thought he could hear Woojin’s heavy footsteps move along the next corridor. If Minho thought he could deal with the threat of Woojin on the loose, he could do so alone. Jisung wanted to be safe. He couldn’t take risks with Minho after last time. 

He bolted as silently as he could to the nearest staircase and pressed himself against the wall before descending slowly. 

_____

Jisung sucked slowly on a piece of orange candy. At least, orange is what the wrapper had said. He couldn’t tell if it was true; he had never eaten an orange in his life. Perhaps, he could try one the next time Hyunjin took him to rob a convenience store.

Hyunjin.

Jisung sighed silently into the cool night air that hung about the roof. He had really gotten lucky on Tuesday, with Hyunjin kissing him at the bus depot. The rain had added a nice touch, making Hyunjin’s shirt cling to his body like that. 

He really hadn’t expected any of it to happen. The kiss they had shared felt more like a distant dream than anything else as he lay on the cold concrete of the roof..

But it had felt so real at that time. Jisung wished he could stop the details from slipping through the gaps in his memory; he wanted to remember the look in Hyunjin’s eyes as they flickered to his mouth, the warmth of Hyunjin’s hands cupping his face, the roughness of the concrete against his back as Hyunjin kissed him harder…

Already, he couldn’t tell what Hyunjin had tasted like - he couldn’t remember anything more than the tingling sensation on hip lips once Hyunjin had finished with them.

Maybe, Hyunjin would kiss him again next Tuesday. Jisung would ask him to, if he didn’t. A soft breeze blew the orange foil wrapper off the white concrete and carried it gently onto the grey grass of the grounds.

Jisung looked up at the starless sky. There was no moon, either, but he was used to it. Really, what was the point of all those astronomy lessons when there were no stars to look at? 

The remaining candy slid down his throat painfully, and Jisung almost choked around it. He sat up, coughing violently again. The hacking sound rippled through the air before blending away once more into an unreal nocturnal silence.

The watch Hyunjin had given him showed quarter past two.

He should leave. There was no way he’d be able to stay up long enough to neet Hyunjin tomorrow if he didn’t sleep now. 

The stairs were dark, and Jisung held his rubber-soled trainers in one hand as he tiptoed noiselessly down the stairs in his socks. The rubber squeaked against the tiles at times, and Jisung was terrified someone would hear him. 

The cold of the banisters vanished beneath his palm, and he stepped onto the corridor that led to his dorm. Dorm 6, dorm 7, dorm 8, dorm - 

Jisung froze. 

Light spilled onto the corridor from beneath the door of dorm 9. Jisung scrambled back to the staircase, trainers pattering softly against the dark corridor.

Was there someone inside?

Of course, there had to be someone inside; the dorm lights stayed off from nine to five every night. Unless, of course, a facility staff member came checking.

Jisung pressed himself against the wall of the staircase. His knuckles were shaking on the steel banisters. 

If the lights were on, then someone had to be there inside; and if someone was there inside, they would notice his empty bed; and if they noticed his empty bed…

Voices.

They were soft as they carried down the corridor through the door of the dorm, but they were there.

Great, there was more than one person inside.

Sweat beaded Jisung’s palms, making them slip on the banisters. What should he do?

What could he do?

The corridor was still dark, quiet but for the voices from dorm 9.

He could still go back in, couldn’t he? He’d say he had been to the washroom. That should be convincing enough.

Jisung wiped his palms on his trousers. Would they believe it? 

That depended on how long ago the lights had been turned on. The washrooms had a three-minute timer, which meant that Jisung’s excuse would fall flat if whoever was inside had been there for longer than five minutes.

Hell, he’d wasted two minutes just standing by the staircase wondering what he should do.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t go back in there.

Jisung scrambled back up the staircase, bolting the entrance to the roof shut behind him.

Sharp night air flooded his lungs as he gazed unseeingly at the city lights blinking in the distance. What would they do once they realised he wasn’t in the washroom?

What would he receive this time?

Jisung shuddered.

He should probably turn himself back in; he should walk back to the dorms and make up some crappy excuse to recite in the face of the staff waiting there. That was the sanest thing to do, right?

Jisung shook his head to himself. No. 

Going back would mean punishment. He had had enough pain this week alone.

But what about after he was caught? Wouldn’t that be worse? He swallowed, letting a foot dangle over the edge of the concrete.

An inappropriately soft breeze rippled through the thick silence.

And then it wasn’t silent anymore.

The floodlights that leered over the grounds were red, and a siren shredded the nocturnal silence.

They knew.

He couldn’t let anyone find him here. He couldn’t stay.

Jisung stared down at the dying grass that grew around the building and took a deep breath. The air screeched with the sound of the alarm, and Jisung jumped.

______

  
  


Jisung woke up to pain. It was everywhere, burning down his throat, chafing at his wrists, blooming through his back - everywhere. Spots danced across his vision when he tried opening his eyes. His foot was probably in a makeshift cast from the stiffness he felt around it. Or maybe it was just the pain numbing his senses.

The air smelt of mold and iodoform, but this wasn’t the hospital wing. He wasn’t on a bed with an itchy mattress; he was on a very uncomfortable chair.

He stirred against the icy metal, only to feel pain blister in his legs. He had fallen four storeys last night - there was no way all his bones were intact.

They didn’t feel intact, at least.

His hand felt heavier than it should have when he tried raising it from where it dangled by the side of the chair.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Woojin.

He sounded cold as ever, but an icy annoyance tinged his voice this time.

Jisung forced his eyes open. 

“What were you thinking?” Woojin’s face was dangerously unreadable.

What had Jisung been thinking? Hell, had he even been thinking when he jumped?

Probably not.

“I don’t know.” Jisung lowered his gaze. There were cuffs around his arms chaining him to a peg on the wall behind him. The chair was welded to the floor. He had never seen this room before, and he didn’t like it now either.

“You’ve lost me my job.”

Oh.

Jisung didn’t know what to say to that. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” He tensed slightly, preparing for the blow Woojin would deal, but it never came.

Woojin sighed. “I’m not your warden anymore. I won’t hit you.”

Jisung looked up uncertainly. Woojin slumped against his chair. He had never seen the warden look so deflated, ever.

Woojin wasn’t supposed to have emotions.

“What happens now?” Jisung swallowed. “Will I be punished?”

Woojin blinked, and for a minute, his face regained the careful nonchalance Jisung was used to. “Of course you will. You’re chained to the was on an immovable electric chair - really, Jisung, what did you expect after a stunt like that?”

Electric chair? Jisung shifted uneasily, pain diffusing along his back. “Will they - will they use the chair on me?”

“I don’t know. It was a stupid thing to do.” Woojin shrugged, staring at the ground. “You could have died.”

Jisung really wouldn’t have minded dying that much. Hyunjin had said heaven and hell weren’t real, and if he was right, an eternity of silence seemed infinitely better than the shit he received at the facility.

“Why is it so hard to make you learn?” Woojin sighed to himself, running an absent hand through his hair. The sleeves of his black warden’s uniform were rolled up to expose milky forearms. “Life is a gift from God - you can’t throw it away like that.”

Jisung nodded mindlessly. Woojin didn’t know he had been sneaking out onto the roof before he jumped. It was just as well. Woojin should be mad at him; Jisung lost him his job. 

But he wasn’t. 

Maybe Woojin did have a sympathetic side. Maybe.

Woojin clasped his hands on his lap. “You’ve got to stay strong, even though things are bad here.”

Jisung was puzzled. This didn’t sound like Woojin at all. The warden he knew was coarse and harsh. The Woojin before him sounded gentle, almost.

Then again, the Woojin before him wasn’t his warden anymore.

“I thought this was supposed to be the best I deserved.” Jisung felt a precarious confidence surge through him at Woojin’s sudden gentleness. “Just like God said in the books.”

For the first time, he dared to look Woojin in the eye. The warden’s eyes flickered dangerously at Jisung’s words before returning to a soft brown beneath the insipid white light.

“We both know how true that is.” He spoke carefully. 

“What about loyalty and service? How can they exist when we refuse to believe the word of God?”

“Service before loyalty.” Woojin’s mouth tightened. His eyes flickered around the room, searching for microphones that may be recording their conversation.

Jisung swallowed. This wasn’t his warden. This was the man who had smuggled books out of the restricted section of the archive and deleted the footage after.

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was young.” Woojin’s voice was distant, dreamy. “But I couldn’t.”

“Oh.”

Jisung didn’t know what to do with that piece of information. 

“There’s no place for dreams where we live, only duty.” For once, Jisung agreed with Woojin. 

The silence that stretched between them was thick and awkward. Woojin spoke first.

“Be good. They’re going to make an example out of you.”

“What?” Jisung felt an all too familiar dread seep into him again.

“I told you; you’ve been stupid. And after tonight, you're going to be under the supervisor until they find a replacement for me.”

Jisung swallowed painfully down his burnt throat.

Woojin fiddled with the zipper along one of his trouser pockets. “Don’t let any of the medics mess with the cast; they don’t sterilise their equipment. And don’t move your bad leg too much. The plaster should crack in a few weeks by itself.” 

Jisung nodded.

“Where will you go now? I mean, you don’t have a job anymore.” Jisung didn’t care, honestly, but he felt the need to ask.

“I’ve got friends,” Woojin shrugged simply. “I’ll be fine.” He took a deep breath. “You won’t, however.”

Jisung grimaced. “I know.”

“Stay strong; don’t try that again.” Woojin reached out to pat Jisung.

Jisung shrank back, flinching at the touch. He didn’t need a monster wishing him strength.

Woojin seemed to realise, because he pulled back. “That’ll be all.”

The warden stood up, and Jisung watched quietly as he dusted his pants. 

And then he saw it.

“You - “ Jisung nearly choked. He couldn’t believe his eyes. This was wrong; it was impossible.

Panic distorted Woojin’s features, and he scrambled to pull his sleeve down.

It was too late, though. Jisung had already seen it. 

Woojin had a barcode. It was blurred, but it was there, at the exact same spot on the forearm where Jisung’s was printed. 

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Woojin smiled weakly past his initial panic. “Code 223 - problem verifying identity.”

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay :,(  
I hope this turned out okay...  
Thank you for all the sweet comments; they really kept me going <3  
For being the bestest readers in the whole world, I'll write you guys a bonus chapter. Stick around!  
Tell me what you think in the comments, they keep me fed <3


	11. ~Bonus~

The cell door opened with a heavy creak, and Jisung started in his chair. Sweat soaked his shirt despite the cold, making him shiver as it dried slowly. What now?

Really, how else could they ruin him now?

Woojin had been right - this was bad. Blood damped his wrists where the chains melded into cuffs. His back stung from the whip; the wounds had probably crusted over with pus by now. He would have cried, but there were no tears left. 

Footsteps, then the sound of a switch being flicked.

Jisung trembled quietly. 

“Hey, it’s alright.”

“Jinnie?” Jisung croaked dryly. “How did you get here?”

“I had help,” Hyunjin shrugged. Jisung could make out Minho’s silhouette in the darkness of the room. “What happened?”

“Not much.” Jisung offered a pathetic smile. The chains clanked conspicuously when he tried lifting a weak hand. “Punishment, you know.”

“He jumped off the building so he wouldn’t be caught for sneaking out; now they’re punishing him for attempting suicide.” Minho’s voice was flat.

Hyunjin’s features melted into anguish. “Why are you so fucking stupid?” 

Jisung blinked. 

Hyunjin knelt beside the chair. His fingers bore a nervous energy as they checked the cuffs binding Jisung’s wrists and examined the welding that connected the chair to the floor.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened in horror. “It’s electric,” he whispered. 

“Yeah.”

“Did he - did he use it on you?”

“Who, Woojin?” Jisung shook his head ever so slightly. Even the small movement hurt. “Not Woojin. But the supervisor says I’ll get a dose tomorrow..” 

Hyunjin’s knuckles turned white against the armrest. “What else?”

“A flogging, that’s all.” Jisung swallowed. Hyunjin was examining his bound foot now, checking the cast for any negligence. “It hurt so badly, Jinnie. I wanted to scream, but they put a mask on my face.” 

Jisung choked back a dry sob. 

“I know,” Hyunjin sighed. He ran a gentle hand through Jisung’s sweat-dampened hair. “Why can’t you be more careful with yourself?” 

“No, now they think it’s a mental issue. If they found me sneaking out, they would have thought I was trying to sneak out, see? There’s less punishment this way.” It made perfect sense to Jisung. Why did Hyunjin look so puzzled?

“You’re stupid,” Hyunjin shook his head, tracing the blood stains on the white fabric of Jisung’s trousers. “It hurts.”

He rested his head against Jisung’s thigh gently enough not to disturb the bruises the wardens had left in the morning. A warm dampness seeped through the thin fabric of Jisung’s trouser leg. “I thought I asked you to stay safe.”

Hyunjin was crying.

“Hey,” Jisung tried shifting his leg, but pain stung him immediately. He hissed, and Hyunjin lifted his head from Jisung’s thigh. “Jinnie.”

Hyunjin shouldn’t cry. He hadn’t been punished. He hadn’t sat in the chair with a mask over his face when the supervisor used the flogger on his back.

It had hurt.

Just like watching Hyunjin sob quietly into his sleeve. “Jinnie, please stop.”

“No.” Hyunjin swiped at his cheek. “Minho, why didn’t you tell me how bad this was?” Hyunjin turned to a surprised Minho. “If I’d known, I would have gotten him painkillers, at least.” 

“Jinnie, it isn’t that bad.” 

“And you,” Hyunjin snapped. “You think everything is alright; it’s a joke to you anyways, isn’t it?” He glared at Jisung through drying tears. “You won’t even realise something’s wrong until it’s over. You just survived a fifty-foot fall you took on purpose, you’ve got a shattered ankle and bruises all over you and I’m sure your back is developing some new infection even as we speak. Not to forget that mustard gas dissolving your lungs right now.” Hyunjin paused to stand up. “And the worst part is that you thought jumping was a smart move.”

“Hey, it isn’t my fault,” Jisung retorted. “If you were in my place, you - “

“I would have fucking tried to stay out of trouble!” Hyunjin hissed down at Jisung. 

Jisung shrank back, trembling.

“Don’t scream; you’re scaring him.” Minho spoke.

“Right.” Hyunjin buried his face in his sleeve to soak away the remaining tears. “Sorry,” he muttered. He rummaged through his collector’s bag and produced an orange pill from a packet. “Eat it; it’s for your throat.”

Jisung eyed the pill uncertainly. “What is it?”

“Respiratory depressant. It prevents too much air getting into your lungs so they can heal in time.” 

“Right.” Jisung opened his mouth to let Hyunjin place the pill on his tongue. It tasted like the orange candy he had eaten on the roof earlier. “Woojin has a tattoo.”

“What?” Hyunjin looked confused. “Why is that relevant?”

“I mean, he’s got a bar code. It’s tattooed on his arm, just like mine.”

“What!?” Hyunjin spat. 

“Yeah, he’s coded 223. Problem verifying identity.” 

“That explains a lot,” Minho shrugged. 

Jisung stared. “You don’t even know Woojin, hyung.”

“No, he just seems rather conflicted.” Minho averted his eyes. “From what you’ve said of him.”

“How do you know? I still haven’t told you what happened yesterday.” Jisung frowned.

“Sweetie, I’ve got my own ways of knowing.” Minho’s smile was securely smug again, and Jisung felt oddly suspicious.

“In any case, he’s fired now.” Jisung would have shrugged if his shoulders weren’t aching so much. Why couldn’t he have been chained on a bed instead?

“Good for you.” Hyunjin patted him lightly.

“No, it isn’t.” Jisung darkened. “Now I’ve got to face the supervisor, and he’s worse.”

“Oh.”

“He was all funny when he spoke to me yesterday, Woojin.” Jisung mused.”I thought he’d be mad at me for losing him his job, but he didn’t hit me.” Jisung paused. “He didn’t even yell.”

“I told you, he’s odd.” Minho shrugged.

“You don’t know him, hyung, he’s evil.” 

“All people have grey areas, Jisungie.” 

“Whatever.” Jisung rolled his eyes. “He’s gone now; he says he’s got a friend who's setting something for him.”

“A friend,” Minho repeated. 

“Yeah, why?” Jisung searched Minho’s face for a reaction. There was nothing.

Minho shook his head. “Nothing.”

There was a forced silence that hung in the darkness until Hyunjin cleared his throat.

“Minho, can you please watch the door? I don’t want any - “

“I’ll do it.” Minho’s footsteps receded into the darkness.

“What was that about?” Jisung watched Hyunjin squeeze himself onto an armrest carefully.

“Nothing; I just wanted to talk to you.” Hyunjin was tall, but sitting on the armrest of the chair made him tower over Jisung. “Alone, I mean.”

“Oh.” Jisung felt his cheeks burn.

Hyunjin smiled sadly. “I wish we could be outside right now.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“This is all your fault.” There was no bite in the accusation. Jisung giggled. “Hey, it’s not funny,” Hyunjin chided, stooping to kiss Jisung’s nose lightly nevertheless. “I brought you something.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. Hyunjin’s gifts were the best. They were also the only gifts he got, but that didn’t matter.

“Here.” He fished out something long and flimsy from his pocket. It gleamed dully in the darkness, and Jisung realised it was a chain just like the one Hyunjin always wore.

“Did you steal this, too?”

Hyunjin nodded. “From the same place where I got mine. Do you like it?”

Jisung flushed. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything so pretty in my life.” He wasn’t lying.

“Don’t say that.” Hyunjin dropped a gentle kiss at his temple. “You’ll get loads of pretty things someday.”

“Someday,” Jisung repeated hollowly. He didn’t like thinking about the future outside of daydreams. “Can you put it around my neck?”

Hyunjin slipped the silver across Jisung’s collarbones before he stopped. “I don’t think I should.”

“Why?” Jisung pouted. 

“What if they see it tomorrow? You’d be in even greater trouble then.”

Jisung frowned. Hyunjin was right; he couldn’t have any of the staff see him wearing it. Thank goodness the bag with all of Hyunjin’s gifts was with Minho now, otherwise the staff would have found it when they searched the dorm. 

“Can I put it ‘round your ankle? The good one, I mean. It’ll be hidden by your trousers.”

“Yes, please.” 

Hyunjin knelt by the chair once again. Jisung shivered slightly as warm fingers rolled up his trouser leg, coiling the chain around his ankle. It was pretty, he had to admit. 

Hyunjin secured the clasp and pecked at a blood-stained calf before rolling the fabric down again.

“Jinnie, there’s blood on my leg,” Jisung wrinkled his nose. “Don’t be gross.”

“So?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “There was blood in your mouth when I kissed you last week.”

“That’s different.” Jisung stared at his ankle. White fabric covered the chain entirely. He looked up at Hyunjin, who was leaning into the chair now. “Kiss me again?”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Hyunjin’s mouth. “Only if you promise to stay out of trouble.”

“Alright.”

“I’ll be here next Tuesday; I want to see you without any fresh wounds, okay?”

“Okay. Next Tuesday.” 

“You don’t mean it,” Hyunjin chuckled. “I can tell.”

“Jinnie, please,” Jisung whined. “I’ll be safe. Promise.”

“Really?” Hyunjin gazed into Jisung’s eyes, and Jisung felt breathless all of a sudden.

“Really,” he whispered.

Hyunjin smiled fully for the first time that evening, and the kiss he dropped on Jisung’s lips tasted far sweeter than any candy they had ever shared.

_____

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't over yet ;)
> 
> Be an angel; leave me a comment ( ˘ ³˘)♥


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